


"The Angel Stream VIII: Midnight Clear"

by Gaedhal



Series: "The Angel Stream" [8]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 72,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaedhal/pseuds/Gaedhal
Summary: As Christmas approaches Brian and Justin deal with new challenges to their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

After Thanksgiving the weather took a hard turn towards winter, plunging the temperature in Pittsburgh into the low 30’s.

Justin wrapped his scarf tighter around his face as he walked across the Carnegie Mellon campus, his portfolio under his arm. The semester was ending and so was his Figure Drawing class. Also his tenure as an art student. Or as a wannabe art student. 

He tried not to think about how much he’d enjoyed the drawing studio. Listening to his fellow students talk about their current art classes and discuss which ones they were planning to take next semester reminded him of the four years he’d wasted at Dartmouth taking business-related classes he had no intention of ever using. 

Oh, well – Brian always said that no knowledge was wasted knowledge. “When you’re a famous artist and have to negotiate contracts with art dealers and galleries, you’ll be glad you have some business skills under your belt,” Brian told him. “It never hurts to understand how those guys think – or to know that they’re all after the most bang for their buck. To them art isn’t about creativity or uplifting the soul of mankind or any of that bullshit. It’s a fucking commodity. It’s something to buy and sell. They’ll try to buy your stuff low and then sell it high. Always remember that everyone in business is out to screw you, Sunshine – in more ways than one!”

Justin smiled thinking about Brian’s sage advice – advice that almost always ended up with a reference to sex. He always looked so serious when he was giving one of his lectures or imparting what he saw as queer wisdom to his young lover. “Never trust a straight guy, no matter how friendly he seems. He’ll always fuck you over in the end – and not in a good way!” “If Deb ever comes over here with a fucking casserole dish, toss it in the trash immediately. It’ll be pure carbs that’ll go directly to your ass!” “Never use any of those cheap condoms. Don’t skimp on the quality of anything that touches your body. And that goes for lube, anti-aging cream, and underwear.”

“I don’t use anti-aging cream,” Justin reminded him.

Brian had narrowed his dark green eyes. “You will,” he intoned. “Just fucking wait!”

“Hey, Justin!”

It was Kathy. She was a short, plump blonde who seemed like an airhead – until she picked up a pencil. She was one of the best artists in the class, especially good at capturing a perfect likeness in an effortless manner Justin openly admired. He remembered once he had felt that same kind of freedom when he drew. But that was before he’d spent four years stifling his talent and pretending his right hand wasn’t itching to throw away his Statistics homework and draw the professor instead.

“Hey, Kathy,” Justin said. “What’s up?”

“God! It’s freezing!” she shivered. “You want to get some coffee? I was up all night working on my Graphics project and I really need a major jolt of caffeine.”

“Sorry, but I can’t. I need to get home and change. I’m working the dinner shift at the Watermark tonight,” Justin said regretfully. He liked talking to Kathy. She was as funny as she was talented and he enjoyed her pointed comments about the class and other students. 

“Oh,” said Kathy, walking in step beside him. “I didn’t know you worked there. I hear it’s a nice place.”

“It’s all right,” Justin shrugged. “But avoid Sunday brunch – it’s all the leftovers they didn’t sell Friday and Saturday!”

Kathy laughed. “I’ll remember that! You know, I really liked your drawing today.”

Justin blushed. Professor McBride had used his sketch as a good example of perspective. That made Justin both proud and embarrassed at the same time. He wasn’t used to being singled out. “Thanks. The model was really good.”

Kathy raised an eyebrow. “The model had nothing to do with it! Your drawing was good. You’re one of the best draftsmen in the whole class, so I don’t know why you don’t flaunt it more. Look at J.J. – he thinks he’s hot shit and he can’t draw half as well as you!” J.J. was the self-proclaimed star of the class – self-proclaimed being the operative word. Most of the girls – and a few of the boys – were majorly in love with the handsome, but egotistical J.J.

“But J.J. has already had a piece in the Austin Gallery’s Fall Show, so he actually has something to brag about,” Justin pointed out. “I’m lucky to be in the class at all.”

Kathy frowned. “That’s not true. Professor McBride only lets in the most promising students. That’s why you have to apply to be in the class. You wouldn’t have been accepted if you didn’t belong there.”

“Maybe,” Justin sighed. “But... I’m not a real art student. That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean you’re not a real art student?” Kathy asked. There was something slightly mysterious about Justin, but Kathy couldn’t put her finger on it. She knew that he lived off campus and that he rarely socialized with the other students, but that’s all she really knew about him. Except that he was gay. But then so were half the guys in the Art School. 

“I’m only taking the drawing studio,” Justin confided. “I’m a part-timer. I wanted to study art for my undergraduate major, but my parents wouldn’t let me. So this is a kind of second chance for me.”

“That’s crummy,” Kathy said. “But what’s the difference whether you’re full-time or part-time? It doesn’t matter what classes you take. That has nothing to do with talent. What matters is the kind of art you produce. And I like your stuff, Justin. You have a good eye. And you have a firm, steady hand. That’s what really matters.”

“Thanks, Kathy,” said Justin. “You know I think you’re one of the best in the class. And you make it seem so easy. I love to draw, but sometimes it’s hard for me. I still feel inhibited.”

“You showed me some figure studies you did,” said Kathy. “Male nudes. Those didn’t seem very inhibited to me!”

Justin blushed again, but then he grinned. “That’s because those were of Brian. It’s hard for me to feel inhibited when I’m drawing him!”

“Who’s Brian?” Kathy asked, her curiosity piqued.

“My boyfriend,” Justin admitted.

“Wow,” Kathy exclaimed. “If he really looks like those drawings, then he’s hot! He should come in and model for the class!”

“I’ll tell him you said so. But I don’t think modeling is his thing.”

“Maybe it should be,” she said. “What does he do?”

Justin hesitated. Should he say advertising or public relations? Brian’s former job or his new career? “He’s in P.R.”

Kathy looked impressed. “That must be interesting. You guys must go to a lot of great parties!”

Justin shook his head. “Not really. At least, I don’t. I have to work evenings. I told you I wasn’t a real artist. Right now I’m only a waiter.”

“Ha!” Kathy sniffed. “You’re as much of an artist as anyone else in the class, Justin. I do some website creation to make extra money. And J.J. the Wonder Artist works at the Gap out at the Monroeville Mall!”

“I’d like to work at the Gap,” said Justin. “But Brian says I have no fashion sense at all!”

“How much fashion sense do you need to work at the Gap?” Kathy said dismissively. “Just look at J.J.! He looks like an unmade bed!”

Justin thought about the way Brian looked when he got up in the morning, all unshaven, with his hair sticking up in 10 different directions at the same time. And there was no one hotter than Brian. “That could be kind of hot.”

Kathy stuck her tongue out. “Not when it’s J.J.!”

“That’s true.” Justin and Kathy stopped next to the Jeep. He’d been running late that morning and been lucky to find a parking spot not too far from the Art Building. “Would you like a ride? I’m heading in the direction of Liberty Avenue.”

“No,” said Kathy. “I need to go and get that coffee. I still have an Art History lecture to get through before I can go home and crash! Maybe we can together another time. When you don’t have to go to work.”

“I’d like that,” said Justin. “But I’m pretty busy right now. I’m trying to get in as many hours at the restaurant as I can. I need the money to buy Christmas presents.” And to kick in my share of our living expenses, too, Justin added silently. He tried not to think about how tight their finances were, especially now that Christmas was coming.

“Well, maybe next semester,” said Kathy. “See you, Justin!”

“See you!” Justin climbed into the Jeep and turned on the engine.

He liked Kathy. He wished he could go and have a cup of coffee with her and dish the rest of the class, but there was no time. That was the problem with Justin’s life right now – no fucking time. Never enough time. And as for next semester...

With luck when the Winter Semester began at Carnegie Mellon he’d be in San Francisco. With Brian. They’d be starting their new life in a new city, far away from Mayor Stockwell’s Pittsburgh.

With luck.

Justin crossed his fingers and headed home to the loft.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk at Woody's.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving Pittsburgh,” Michael said quietly.

“Believe it,” Brian replied. “Because in a little over a month, I’ll be gone with the fucking wind!” He paused, thinking of Justin. He was halfway through his shift at the Watermark right about now. “We’ll both be gone,” he added.

Brian and Michael were sitting in their customary spot at the bar at Woody’s. Michael was nursing a bottle of Old Pitt, while Brian was downing shots of Absolut. 

Decent booze was Brian’s last major extravagance. Everything else was on a strict budget. Brian winced whenever Justin said that fucking word. Budget. The ugliness of the term offended his delicate sensibilities. Food, clothing, magazines, toiletries, even gas for the Vette and the Jeep - all had been stripped down to the basics. But Brian couldn’t bring himself to order the cheap vodka or the no-name whiskey. He knew it was hypocritical, but so be it. 

Soon – very soon – he’d be making money again. Maybe not the same kind of money he’d made at Vangard or even Ryder, but money never-the-less. They’d still have to be careful, though. San Francisco was an expensive city – more expensive by far than Pittsburgh. Justin would still have to work and they’d both have to budget their expenses. Brian frowned. That fucking word again! Once he got back on his feet he make some decent investments that would assure they’d never have to go through a barren patch like this again. 

Well, fuck Gardner Vance! And fuck Jim Stockwell, too! They’d ruined Pittsburgh but they weren’t going to defeat Brian Kinney! He lifted his glass slightly and toasted the smoky air. Then he bolted down the shot and motioned the bartender for another hit.

“Brian? Did you hear what I said?” Michael nudged his friend.

“Sure,” Brian nudged back. “I’m listening to every single word, Mikey – as usual.” 

“Isn’t there another way?” Michael asked. “Why can’t you open your own agency? Then you can stay here. You won’t have to leave town!”

Brian sighed. They’d been through all this before, but Michael still wouldn’t believe it was necessary for Brian to leave town. “Open an agency with what? I can barely pay the balance on my goddamn VISA card, let alone get my hands on the start-up cash for a new ad agency. Vance owes me my partnership share, but it’s a hell of a lot less than I deserve. Then I have to pay off the lawyers, who, frankly, did shit. I might as well have hired Melanie for all the good they did! And Gardner isn’t in any hurry to pay me off. Every day he holds my money back is another day he can savor his fucking victory!”

“I hate that Gardner Vance,” Michael mumbled. “And fucking Stockwell, too!”

“Join the club. But there’s nothing I can do now. It’s too late.” Brian stared down at his fresh shot of Absolut. Maybe if he hadn’t taken over Stockwell’s mayoral campaign things might have been different. The campaign had been in the toilet until then, but Brian had turned it all around. Turned it around and fucked himself at the same time. Fucked the entire gay population of Pittsburgh. Without lube. “Too fucking late. But that’s all water under the bridge over the Allegheny. I should have bugged out of this burg years ago. Gone to New York straight out of college when I was young and hung and hungry. Now I’m nothing but damaged goods in the ad game. Vance made certain of that!” 

“But what would I have done without you for all those years, Brian?” Michael reflected. He tried to picture his life without Brian, both past and future, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it.

“You would have been fine, Mikey,” Brian reassured him. “‘I Will Survive’ and all that campy horse shit, right? But there’s a lot of truth to it. What did Vic always say? We faggots can take a licking and keep on ticking. And that includes you.”

“Maybe,” Michael said grudgingly. “But I don’t have to like it.”

One of the things Michael hated the most about Brian leaving was that he wasn’t going alone. He’d already reconciled himself to the fact that his best friend was in a relationship, although he didn’t dare use that loaded word in front of Brian. He’d even come to like Justin. Sort of. Or at least not mind him so much. But Justin was such a little smart-ass. A preppie boy who was used to getting exactly what he wanted. The kind of guy he and Brian used to detest when they were in high school.

And now this privileged Ivy League grad had what Michael had longed for all those years. He had Brian. And the two of them were leaving Pittsburgh together. Going to live thousands of miles away in San Francisco. Queer Heaven! It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair!

“Couldn’t you find a job some place closer? Like Cleveland? Or Buffalo? Or Scranton? San Francisco is so far away,” Michael moaned.

Scranton. Brian made a face. He’d never told Michael about the job offer from the firm in Scranton and he wasn’t about to mention it now. “San Francisco is no farther away than Portland.”

“You would have to bring that up,” Michael huffed. He hated thinking about David and how badly their relationship had ended. “You were right, Brian. I should have listened to you from the beginning. What a mistake!”

“You were never cut out to be a doctor’s wife,” Brian stated. “At least not that doctor’s wife!”

“But if I hadn’t broken up with David and come back to the Pitts, then I never would have met Ben,” Michael pointed out. “And we never would have adopted Hunter. Or moved into our house. So even when it seems bad, some things work out for the best in the end, you know?”

Brian gave Michael a disdainful look. All that optimistic Little Mary Sunshine bullshit gave him a sharp pain. He expected it from Emmett, but not from Mikey. “Yeah, and if my aunt had balls she’d be my fucking uncle!”

“If you’d gone to New York after college you never would have met Justin,” Michael countered. “And you wouldn’t be in a relationship with him now.” 

There, he’d said it! Michael glanced sideways at his friend, waiting for the explosion.

But Brian only sat there, staring and turning the empty shot glass with his long, beautiful fingers. Michael loved Brian’s hands. There was something so strong and graceful about them. How many times in his life had be looked at them and imagined them touching him? Too many times to count. But soon they would be out of reach, probably forever. Once Brian and Justin left town, they’d never look back. That was one of Brian’s rules – never look back. Never have any regrets.

Michael felt something rising in the back of his throat, almost choking him. But he swallowed it back down. Swallowed all of his old hopes. His old dreams. From now on, he wouldn’t have Brian to depend on. It was time to grow up. Finally.

Michael drained his bottle of Old Pitt and stood up. “I have to get home. It’s getting late.”

Brian nodded. “Don’t forget that Justin’s birthday is next week.”

“Oh, right.” Michael slipped on his jacket. “When is it again?”

“Thursday. December the 8th. He’s got some idea about having people over to eat cake.” Brian smiled to himself. The little shit! “He’s going to make the fucking cake himself!”

“Has he ever made a cake before?” Michael knew that Justin occasionally cooked, but he’d never actually tasted any of his food.

“I have no idea. But he couldn’t do any worse than those Betty Crocker monstrosities your mom used to produce. How come Vic got all the culinary talent in the family?”

“Asshole! My mother does just fine in the kitchen!” Michael exclaimed. “I never heard you complaining when you showed up at mealtime when we were kids!”

“You’ve had my mother’s food, Mikey. I would have eaten roadkill back in those days,” Brian sniffed. “But Deb’s lasagna isn’t half bad. She should give Justin the recipe before we leave town.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’ll make a note of that.” He leaned over and kissed Brian’s cheek. Felt the scratchiness along his jaw. Smelled the musky scent of him, part sweat, part cologne, and all pure testosterone. It was an odor he knew as well as anything in his life. Michael closed his eyes and inhaled it.

“Good night, Michael,” said Brian, pushing him away gently.

“Night, Brian.” And then he was gone.

Brian was just about to order another drink when he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. It was too early for Justin to be finished at the Watermark. He took the phone out and looked at the number. 

Then he got up and walked away from the bar, looking for a little privacy as he took the call.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News from San Francisco.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

“Hey,” said Justin, leaning over to kiss Brian. Then he buckled his seat belt.

“You look beat,” Brian commented. Actually, Justin looked good enough to eat, but Brian wasn’t about to let him know that. The little twerp was cocky enough already.

“I am. Going to my drawing studio and then working a full shift almost knocks me out.” He paused and then grinned wickedly. “Almost! But I’m still not too tired to give you a run for your money when we get home!”

Brian nodded. “Ah, I have taught you well, Grasshopper!”

“You bet your ass you have!” Justin laughed as Brian pulled the Vette out of the parking lot of the Watermark and headed back uptown.

“Listen,” Brian said hesitantly. “I need to tell you something.”

Justin felt a sinking in his stomach. “I need to tell you something” usually ended up with the person telling you a something that you’d rather not hear.

“I have to go on a trip. Tomorrow morning.” Brian kept his eyes on the road.

“Okay,” said Justin. That wasn’t necessarily bad news. Brian had never gone away on a trip since they’d moved in together, but Justin knew that in the past he had traveled a lot on business. “To San Francisco?”

“Yeah,” Brian replied. “Tony Conway called me this evening. They’re doing a big Christmas promotion for a new gay-owned hotel and there’s an important meeting tomorrow evening. I need to be there.”

Justin felt his heart race. It was really happening. They were really going to leave Pittsburgh. “But you’re not supposed to start until January!”

“I know,” said Brian. “But Larch, Keller, and Conway is a public relations firm and Christmas and New Year’s are a huge chunk of their business. Besides, the owner specifically requested that I work on this particular promotion. He’s supposedly some eccentric gay entrepreneur.”

Justin frowned. He knew that Brian’s contacts – both professional and others – were far ranging. But it wasn’t the professional contacts that worried him. It was those others. “The owner of the hotel? How would be even know about you, Brian? You haven’t started working there yet!”

“The Gay Grapevine is a strange and wondrous thing, Sunshine,” Brian intoned. Then he took a deep breath. “And I do have a certain reputation. That’s a given. It’s one of the reasons Tony Conway wanted to hire me in the first place. He wanted that famous Brian Kinney mystique.”

Justin sorted. “Mystique, huh? Why not just take pictures of your dick, blown them up, and use them to advertise their events. Then you wouldn’t even have to leave Pittsburgh!”

“Why would they need to blow them up?” Brian deadpanned.

Justin sighed. “You’re really something, Brian!”

“I know,” Brian sighed back. “Something.”

They didn’t say anything more until Brian pulled the Vette into the garage behind the building. Then they sat for a moment, the silence speaking louder than anything else.

“Well,” said Brian finally. “Are we going to sit here all night, or are we going inside and fuck?” 

“This owner – is he a former trick?” Justin asked. “Or... is he more than that?”

“More than what?” Brian coughed. “You know me, Justin. And you know my history. Tony told me his name, but it didn’t ring a bell. Stefan Radev. I think I’d remember a name like that. Tony says he’s an older guy. I’d remember that, too. I don’t usually trick with older guys. At least I haven’t since I officially gave up my twink status. So I have no idea if I’ve ever met the man before. But he certainly knows who I am. That I can’t deny.”

“You were never a twink, Brian!” Justin asserted.

“Oh, I was a twink all right.” Brian eased himself out of the Vette, feeling his back creak a little. It wasn’t the best car for a tall man and Brian sometimes felt like he was climbing out of a fucking clown car. But it was undoubtedly the coolest vehicle he’d ever owned. He only hoped that the guy he sold it to – and it was sure to be a guy because females were way too practical to put up with the thing – would appreciate it. “For about 10 minutes. But during those 10 minutes I made the most of my innate cuteness.”

“Cute is one word I’d never apply to you.” Justin slammed the door on the driver’s side. “It’s also hard to picture you with some old guy.” He wondered what this Stefan Radev looked like. If he owned a big hotel, then he must be really rich.

“When I was a twink, I thought old was about 25,” Brian said. “Which makes me...” He let the sentence hang. He didn’t like to think about how far away from 30 and on his way to 40 he actually was.

“Don’t worry,” said Justin, touching Brian’s arm as they got into the elevator. “I like more mature men. Really mature men.”

“Great,” Brian huffed. “That makes me feel so much better!”

In the loft Justin noted that Brian’s Louis Vuitton suitcase was open on the floor and almost full. “It looks like you’re taking a lot of stuff,” he commented as he stripped off his dirty white dress shirt.

“I have to take a few changes,” Brian shrugged. “I don’t know where this meeting is or if there’s anything else I’ll have to do while I’m there. I might have to go to some other promotions and I need to be prepared.”

Justin thought of something else. “My party!”

“Huh? What party?”

“My birthday party!” Justin exclaimed. “Remember? It’s next Thursday! I’m making a cake!”

“Jesus,” Brian breathed. In the wake of the call, he’d completely forgotten about Justin’s birthday. “I’ll be back before that. I’ll only to be gone for a few days.”

“Oh.” Justin turned away. “You didn’t say.”

Brian walked over the took Justin in his arms. “Look, this is business. I need this fucking job and I need to make a good impression on Tony Conway and his partners. And if that means charming this Radev guy, then I’ll charm the pants off him!”

“Will you really, Brian?” Justin asked.

“Will I what?”

“Charm the pants off him? To make a good impression?”

“You mean, would I fuck a client?” Brian returned.

“Yes,” said Justin. “That’s what I mean.”

Brian paused. He’d done a lot of things in his life. Things he wasn’t necessarily proud of. And he knew that he’d probably have to more things he wasn’t exactly happy about before he was finished.

“If there was no other way,” Brian said. He might as well be honest. He was Brian Kinney, after all. “Or if he was hot.”

Justin pulled out of his arms and walked towards the bathroom.

“Justin!” Brian called after him. “Let’s get one thing straight. There are tricks and then there’s you. You’ve known that from the beginning. I’ve never tried to hide it from you. I couldn’t hide it from you even if I fucking wanted to! Michael and Deb and Emmett and Theodore and Melanie would all gleefully tell you about my wicked fucking ways. Melanie especially would have loved nothing better than to relate my sordid history to you. To warn you about what you were getting into by hooking up with the Whore of Liberty Avenue!”

“Except you’d already told me,” Justin said. He turned on the water in the sink and started washing his face. “And I hate it when you call yourself that! I fucking hate it!”

“I’m sorry you hate it.” Brian came up behind Justin. Pressed himself against him. “But it’s my life and I can’t change it now. In fact, I don’t want to change it. Yeah, there are some things I regret – like working for Jim Stockwell or trusting Gardner Vance! – but fucking a lot of guys isn’t one of them. And I have fucked a lot of guys.” Brian wrapped his long arms around Justin and put his mouth next to his ear. “But I don’t see any of those guys living here in the loft. I don’t see any of those guys going to sleep with me at night or waking up next to me in the morning. I don’t see any of those guys going with me to see Gus. Or cluttering up my beautiful loft with their art supplies and their dirty underwear. Or moving with me to San Francisco. And you know why?”

“Why?” Justin whispered.

“Because they’re tricks,” Brian stated. “They don’t matter. They aren’t real.”

“And what makes me different?” Justin asked. “What makes me real?”

Brian blinked. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I couldn’t explain it last Christmas Eve and I can’t now. But I know it’s true.”

Justin turned and faced Brian. Looked him directly in the eye. “What if I went out and tricked, Brian? What if I picked up a random guy and fucked him and then told you about it? And then another? And another? How would you feel?”

Justin saw Brian hesitate. Just for a moment. It was subtle, but Justin knew Brian’s face as well as he knew his own. And that hesitation told him everything he needed to know.

“I’d say go for it!” Brian proclaimed a little too loudly. “You’re young. You need to fuck as many hot guys as you can. How can you know what you really want if you don’t experience everything life has to offer? That’s what I did, so how can I tell you otherwise? I’d be a fucking hypocrite!”

Justin closed his eyes. But you’d hate it. You’d never stop me, but you’d hate it. And that’s what I needed to know.

“What time do you have to be at the airport in the morning?” Justin put his own arms around Brian’s waist.

“Too fucking early. 7:45 a.m.”

“Then we better get started,” Justin murmured. “I don’t have class tomorrow and I don’t have to be at the Watermark until dinner, but if you have to get up early, then you don’t want to stay up too late.”

Brian unzipped Justin’s black dress pants and pushed them down. Then he went to his knees and took Justin’s cock out of his white briefs. “Fuck that! I can sleep on the plane!”

Justin leaned back against the sink and held his breath as Brian took his dick into his hot mouth. 

Brian was going to San Francisco, but it was okay.

Everything would be okay. He knew it in his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready to leave.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

After they finished fucking, Justin lay awake for the rest of the night while Brian fell into a deep, but restless sleep.

Justin watched him for a long time, thinking. About the past. And about the future. Going to San Francisco excited him, but it also frightened him. It was a big city where he wouldn’t know anyone except Brian. It wasn’t like his freshman year at Dartmouth – at least then he’d had a plan. It hadn’t been his plan, but it was a plan nevertheless. And Hanover wasn’t exactly San Francisco.

San Francisco. He remembered telling his mother last Christmas Eve that as soon as he graduated he was leaving Pittsburgh for San Francisco. That in Gay Mecca he could finally be himself. He would get a job. Make his own life, on his own terms. And he would pursue his art. Or at least he’d try. He’d finally be free enough to do what he wanted to do and not what his father had commanded him to do. Little had he known then how prophetic his words would turn out to be! 

He’d been so angry back then. So fucking frustrated. He recalled his mother’s look when he told her he was gay and had no intention of going to work for his father. The shock on Jennifer Taylor’s face, but also the relief at finally hearing the words she had feared for so long spoken aloud. Justin realized that his mother knew the truth, but the fact that she refused to acknowledge it was what had infuriated him. She’d probably thought that Justin would run off to San Francisco and become a hairdresser or some other clichéd character from ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’! 

And now he really was going to leave Pittsburgh for good. Going to a new life.

Going to live that new life with Brian.

Brian. Always the center of everything. His life. His plans. His decisions.

Justin gazed at his lover and thought about how much he loved him. Loved him so much it hurt inside. 

But what did Brian feel for him? It was difficult to tell. Sometimes he caught Brian looking at him strangely. Not with lust or even longing, but with such sadness it almost broke Justin’s heart. Looking at him like it was the last time he’d ever see him. That made Justin want to put his arms around Brian. Tell him everything was okay. That he wasn’t going anywhere. That he’d never leave him. Never betray him. Never hurt him the way so many people in his life had hurt him in the past.

But he could get those words out only rarely. Brian despised sentiment and romance and all the mushy phrases and gushy declarations that went along with them. Whenever Justin said “I love you,” Brian was most likely to respond by turning away, as if he’d said something Brian couldn’t – or wouldn’t – accept. But other times he merely nodded. Or held on to Justin without saying anything. Or Brian simply touched him faintly, letting him know that he’d heard him. And that was all.

That’s when Justin truly hated Brian’s parents. Hated them for making Brian the way he was. For making him afraid to admit that he loved someone. Or that he needed anyone. Afraid to admit that he was human. That’s when Justin saw the terrified, willful, and desperate child lurking inside of this tall, arrogant, beautiful, and completely infuriating man. The man he loved.

Justin brushed a strand of dark hair back off of Brian’s forehead. Brian sighed and Justin settled his head on Brian’s chest, staring into the darkness until first light told him it was time to wake Brian up so he could get ready to leave for San Francisco.

***

Justin dropped Brian off at the terminal door. That’s not the way Justin wanted it, but Brian insisted. Justin knew Brian wasn’t great with good-byes, even temporary ones, so he bowed to his lover’s wishes.

“I’ll call you when I get to the hotel,” said Brian, checking to make certain he had his e-ticket in his pocket.

“Where is this place you’re staying?” Justin asked.

“The Maxim. It’s the hotel we’re promoting. So I should get good service, if nothing else!”

“The gay hotel,” said Justin. “Should be right up your alley.”

Brian snorted. “All hotels in San Francisco are gay hotels! But you’re right about one thing – it’ll be right up my alley!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Justin commented dryly.

Brian shot Justin at sharp look. “Listen – I’ll be home in a few days. In plenty of time for your orgy of cake and celebration.”

“You better be!” Justin barked. Then his voice softened. “If you’re not here, what’s the point?”

“It’s your birthday, not mine,” Brian countered. “Anyway, while I’m there I’ll try to steal some time to look for a place for us to live.”

Justin’s ears perked up. “Really? What kind of place?”

“Nothing like the loft,” said Brian. “We can’t afford anything like that – at least not yet. But we have to live somewhere. I’m hoping Tony Conway will help me there. He’s lived in the Castro for over 10 years so he knows his way around the city pretty well.”

Justin tried to envision his future home in his mind. Tried to picture himself living there and working there. But all he could come up with were cable cars, the Golden Gate Bridge, and a lot of bearish men walking down the street in assless chaps. In other words, a bunch of stereotyped images. And he knew that wasn’t what San Francisco was about in any way.

“What about the loft?” Justin asked. He knew Brian had spoken to a real estate agent, but had yet to put the place on the market. “What are you going to do with it?”

Brian bit his lip. He didn’t want to admit to Justin that the new job was far from a sure thing. He’d have to start at the bottom and prove himself in an entirely new field. He could find that he and Larch, Keller, and Conway were a bad fit and have to return to the Pitts with his tail between his legs. Until he was certain, the loft was his single solid asset and he didn’t want to let it go too soon. 

“I think we better discuss this when I get back.” A security guard was standing on the sidewalk, motioning impatiently for Justin to move the Jeep on. “Later, okay?”

Justin nodded. He wanted to kiss Brian goodbye, but in Family Friendly Pittsburgh that wasn’t a very smart thing to do. But once they got to San Francisco, he was going to kiss Brian right on the street! Anytime he wanted to! Provided that Brian didn’t smack his ass and tell him that he was being a brat.

“Yeah,” said Justin. “Later.”

He drove off, watching Brian in the rearview mirror for as long as he was able.

And Brian stood there, watching Justin drive away. He didn’t go inside the terminal until the Jeep had merged into the heavy traffic and disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin visits Deb at the diner.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

After leaving the airport, Justin didn’t feel particularly hungry, but he knew that in a few hours he’d be starving. So he drove the Jeep over to Liberty Avenue, found a parking space not far from the diner, and went to get some take-out for later.

“Hiya, Sunshine!” Deb called from behind the counter.

“Hey,” Justin said glumly as he slipped onto a stool. He scanned the board with the breakfast specials. Usually his stomach was alive and well first thing in the morning, even after not sleeping at all the night before. But all he could think about Brian getting on a plane. Brian on the other side of the country. Brian at a gay hotel, surrounded by hot guys. Brian, without Justin to look after him.

“What’ll you have, hon?” asked Debbie, pencil poised.

“I... I don’t know,” Justin shook his head, trying to decide.

“Not feeling so hot, baby? Got an upset tummy this morning?”

Sunshine looked so down, Debbie thought. He must be depressed about his folks. Justin’s mom, Jennifer Taylor, had called her only the day before to ask about the next P-FLAG meeting. Deb had been trying to get her to go to a meeting for months, but Jennifer was too afraid her husband would find out. That Craig Taylor must be a first rate jerk! It was a shame, because Justin and his mother were really nice people. Always so polite and well-spoken. Well, Justin was usually well-spoken. Unless he was being a brat. But Deb thought maybe that was mostly Brian’s influence. Brian encouraged everyone to say exactly what they thought, no matter what the fucking consequences. And that wasn’t always a good thing!

Anyway, Deb started to question Jennifer and the next thing she knew the poor woman was crying her eyes out over the phone! Telling Debbie that she and her husband were getting a divorce! That Craig – a.k.a. The Fucking Shitheel – had packed his bags and moved out of the house and that she was seeing a lawyer next week!

That was tough. Really, really tough. Especially with Christmas coming and everything. The Holidays were hard enough already without a bunch of trauma and drama. Of course, Deb herself always got sad this time of year. It reminded her of how much Vic had loved Christmas and how much she missed him. If only she could have him back for one single fucking day! Then she’d have a chance to tell him all the things she should have told him before it was too late. Then she’d finally be able to make up with him. Take back all the stupid things she’d said to him the last time they spoke. She’d make it all better. Somehow...

“Deb?”

“Huh?” She saw Sunshine’s forlorn face staring at her. “Oh! Sorry, honey. My mind was wandering there for a minute.”

“That’s okay,” Justin sighed deeply. “I said I’d like the waffles with sausages, to go. And could I have the maple syrup on the side? I don’t want the waffles to get soggy on the drive home.”

“Sure,” said Debbie, noting the order on her pad. “Coming right up.”

She put the order in and then poured Justin a big glass of orange juice. “Here you go – some liquid sunshine for my little Sunshine!”

Justin winced. Deb really took the Sunshine thing way too far. At first Justin hadn’t minded when she called him that. But then Brian had taken to using it, too. Usually he said it mockingly, but other times his tone was more serious. That freaked Justin out. If his lover was going to give him a nickname, he’d rather it be something more butch than ‘Sunshine’! That was something you called a kid, not a man. Even ‘Twat’ or ‘Twerp’ was preferable. Of course, Brian used those a lot, too.

“Thanks.” He picked up the glass and took a sip. 

Debbie means well, Justin thought. And she’s always been good to me. And good to Brian, too, when other people – like his own parents! – were shitty to him. 

She patted Justin’s hand. “Cheer up, baby. I know things seem crummy right now. Divorce is never easy, no matter what your age. But you’ve got to think about what your mom is going through and do what you can to help her and your sister. Frankly, I think your father is being a horse’s ass about everything, but maybe he’ll come around. You never know.”

Justin blinked at Debbie. What the fuck was she talking about? “What the fuck are you talking about? What divorce?”

Deb stepped back. Oops! Maybe Jennifer hadn’t said anything to Sunshine yet. But she must have! If she’d told Deb, then certainly she would have told her own son! Wouldn’t she?

“I guess I should have kept my big fucking mouth shut,” Debbie bleated. “Carl’s always telling me that I should stop and count to 10 before I open my yap and stick my foot into it. But, hey – what does he know? Am I right, Sunshine?”

“Are you telling me that my parents are getting a divorce?” Justin spat back. “Did my mother tell you that? When?”

“Well,” Debbie squirmed. “She may have mentioned something about it. Or I may have misunderstood her. Maybe she was just... thinking about it.”

Justin swallowed. Suddenly he felt like he was going to throw up. Maybe he’d puke all over Deb! That would fucking serve her right!

“It’s true,” he whispered. “I know it is. It all makes sense.” Justin voice rose. “My parents are getting a divorce and it’s all because of me! Because my dad can’t accept the fact that I’m gay! Isn’t it, Deb? Isn’t that the reason?”

Shit, thought Debbie. Now the kid is really freaking out! “I’m sure that’s not the only reason, honey.”

“But it’s the main reason, right?” Justin stood up. His head was spinning. Everyone in the diner was staring at him. Listening to every word. If Deb knew, then everyone in her P-FLAG group knew. And if everyone in her P-FLAG group knew, then everyone on Liberty Avenue knew. Probably everyone is all of goddamn Pittsburgh knew! Everyone but him. His parents had apparently decided telling their only son that their family was splintering wasn’t a major priority!

Shit! He needed to talk to Brian! Now! 

But Brian was on a plane bound for the West Coast.

So, Justin thought, I’m going to have to deal with this myself. Deal with it like a man. Because no matter what my own fucking parents think, I AM a man! And they better start treating me like a man from now on!

“I have to get the fuck out of here.” He turned and stumbled towards the door.

“But Sunshine!” Debbie cried. “What about your waffles?”

“Fuck the waffles!” Justin shouted. “You can take those waffles and shove them! And save a couple of sausages for my mother and my father, too! Tell them to stick them where the monkey hides the nuts! See if they enjoy THAT!”

And Justin blasted out of the diner, letting the door bang behind him like a shot.

Debbie stood there with her mouth hanging open as she watched Justin storm out. Everyone in the diner was gawking at her. Waiting for her to offer some sort of explication for the scene they had just witnessed.

“Hm,” she coughed. Then she shrugged. What the hell? “Hysterical little shit, isn’t he?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian at The Maxim in San Francisco.

San Francisco, November 2005

 

So far Brian was quite pleased with The Maxim. 

It had formerly been a faded apartment building, but Stefan Radev had transformed it into a very chic – and very exclusive – gay-oriented hotel and urban resort. And since it was located in the center of the Castro District, it was perfectly placed to become the hot new destination for gay businessmen and tourists. 

Or at least it was the job of Brian’s new firm, Larch, Keller, and Conway, to make the gay movers-and-shakers think so.

From the outside The Maxim didn’t look like much. It was a staid Depression Era gray box that featured only a small, discreet sign near the front door. But inside Radev had spared no expense. The lobby was classic Art Deco, modeled to look like the famous lobby in the Thirties film ‘Grand Hotel.’ And all of the employees, from the tall, strapping doorman, to the handsome clerks behind the front desk, to the eye-candy that made up the bellboy corps, had been hand-selected by Radev for their client-appeal.

Brian wondered just how personal the selection process was as he and the bellboy – a grinning bleached blond who introduced himself as Scott – rode up in the elevator. Brian enjoyed elevator antics, but his room was on the fourth floor, so the ride wasn’t long enough to make it worth his while.

The comped room was also a pleasant surprise. It wasn’t a suite, but it was larger than he had expected. And the furnishings were clean and modern, but with enough of an Art Deco feel to be in step with the rest of the hotel’s decor.

The bellboy – Scott – did all the usual bellboy things. Opened the drapes. Showed Brian the bathroom – as if he wouldn’t have found it on is own. Plumped up the pillows on the queen-sized bed. Demonstrated the flat-screen television. And pointed out the complimentary gift basket from the management. Instead of the usual flowers and limp fruit, The Maxim basket contained a selection of premium condoms, deluxe lube, and coupons for an assortment of local restaurants, clubs, gyms, and sex clubs.

“You’re also entitled to a free massage at our in-house spa, sir,” Scott chirped. “Mr. Penley instructed me to tell you that personally.” Penley was the manager of the hotel who had been at the front desk to greet Brian when he arrived.

“Is that something all the guests receive?” asked Brian, raising an eyebrow. “Or just me?”

Scott grinned. He grinned a lot, that boy. “Oh, it’s only free to VIP’s. But the massage service is available to all of our guests, 24/7.”

I bet, thought Brian. “How special is this special massage?”

Scott kept grinning. That was starting to unnerve Brian. The kid was like a Stepford Boytoy. “As special as you want it to be, sir.”

Well, that was clear enough. Maybe later. Maybe tonight, after that meeting with Radev. But now... 

Frankly, Brian was beat. He’d slept badly the night before and hadn’t gotten any rest at all on the Trans Con flight.

But one thing always relaxed him. One thing never failed.

Scott was young and hot and he was obviously waiting for his ‘tip.’

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

There was that grin again. Brian made a mental note that the staff was certainly eager to please.

Brian sighed. He was tired, but why the fuck not? Might as well sample everything The Maxim had to offer. 

“Perhaps there IS one more thing,” he said.

Brian closed his eyes as the kid went to his knees.

 

***

 

Brian was able to take a short nap before he had to get ready for the dinner meeting with his new bosses and Stefan Radev, but he woke up still feeling out of sorts.

He’d be fucked if he was coming down with something. He hated being sick. Fucking hated it! The bout of gastroenteritis that had sent him into Allegheny General just before Thanksgiving had been beyond miserable and he wasn’t anxious to repeat the experience. He winced when he remembered that the doctor had warned him about developing an ulcer. He’d always laughed at guys who complained about their stress-related illnesses, but now it seemed he might become one of them. Well, there was no fucking way he was going to walk around with a bottle of Maalox in his briefcase, ordering bland food and watching his diet. Fuck that!

Brian poured himself a drink from the mini-bar – Canadian Club and water – and tried calling the loft and then Justin’s cell, but there was no answer at either one. He’d also called Justin’s cell from the airport when he landed, and then again after he’d checked in, but with no luck.

He knew Justin didn’t have a class that day and his shift at the Watermark wasn’t until dinner. So where was he now? If he wasn’t in the loft, he should at least be answering his cell. He’d been so adamant that Brian call him the minute he got to San Francisco. Well, Brian was calling. But Justin wasn’t answering.

Brian got dressed. He decided to wear the dark blue Armani suit with a pair of Prada shoes. The shoes were from two years ago and the suit a year older than that, but he doubted his new bosses would notice. Tony Conway, Dan Larch, and Jon Keller were nice guys and good P.R. men, but none of them could be called a label queen.

But Stefan Radev might notice. He might be exactly the kind of guy who would notice.

Well, if he was going to judge Brian because his suit wasn’t from this year’s collection, then fuck him! So what if he couldn’t afford a new fucking wardrobe right now? It was still a beautiful suit and Brian knew it fit him perfectly. All his Armani suits fit him perfectly, no matter what the year! He had a body born to wear Italian fashion – long, lean, and broad-shouldered. Radev probably looked like a fucking troll! 

Brian changed his shirt and then his tie.

That was better.

Then he called Justin again.

“Where the fuck are you? Why do you have a cell if you aren’t going to answer it? Hello? Call me back! ASAP!” 

He snapped the Razr shut and then paced back and forth, clutching the phone in his hand as if it was going to sound any minute. But it didn’t.

Brian glanced at himself in the mirror.

Goddamn it.

Brian changed back to the tie he’d had on originally.

Yes, he’d been correct the first time. That was the best look. Simple. Elegant. Perfect. Go with your instincts, he thought. Always trust what you know is right.

Always.

It’s the only way.

Brian looked at his watch. It was time. 

He checked himself in the mirror, adjusted his tie, and went out the door. Then he got into the elevator and rode up to dinner in Stefan Radev’s private suite in the penthouse of The Maxim.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Carl see someone on Liberty Avenue.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Justin stumbled out of the diner, his ears ringing with Deb’s bombshell.

His parents were getting a divorce!

Shit. Double shit. Triple shit!

Why hadn’t his mother told him? Why hadn’t she prepared him in some way?

Yes, he’d hit her with the news that he was gay out of the blue, but it wasn’t like that was a real surprise. She already knew. She had to know! Drama Club, Art Club, no girlfriends – Daphne hardly counted! – all those posters of shirtless men on the walls of his bedroom. Come on, Jennifer! Wake up and smell the fucking coffee!

But this. His parents. Divorce.

And it was his fault. That much he was sure of.

A gust of freezing air whipped up the street and Justin pulled his scarf tighter around his head. He realized that he was walking aimlessly down Liberty Avenue, in the opposite direction from where he’d parked the Jeep.

So what? It wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go until his shift at the Watermark started.

He considered driving over to Taylor Electronics and confronting his father. Finishing the argument they’d had on Thanksgiving. Making his father face the truth and then deal with it.

Maybe a divorce was the way his father was dealing with it. By bailing on the family. But not just bailing on his queer son, but on Molly, too! And his mother! Turning his back on all of them.

“I better not go over there,” Justin mumbled to himself. “I might take a shot at him. Then he’d have to call the cops to arrest me!” He laughed at the idea of his father having him arrested, but then he stopped. Suddenly it didn’t seem so fucking funny.

He recalled when Brian called him that cold day last winter and told him he’d just been sprung from jail. That hadn’t been the first time Brian had been picked up by the cops. He wouldn’t talk about what had happened to him that night, or any of the other times he’d been arrested, but he hinted that it hadn’t been pleasant. Justin remembered the look on Brian’s face when Babylon was raided on Halloween. How they’d escaped out the firedoor. Brian had been determined that Stockwell’s Stormtroopers not get a hold of them. Until that one cop stopped them. That sergeant. Justin didn’t know the cop’s name, but...

Justin halted dead in his tracks and stared down the sidewalk ahead of him.

Because there was that same cop, standing almost in front of Woody’s. And he was talking to another familiar figure. Debbie’s husband, Carl Horvath.

Justin ducked into a doorway. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he had to. It was instinct. Fear. Something about the way that cop had looked at him when he’d stopped him and asked to see his I.D. last summer. And something about the way he’d leered at Justin on Halloween as he stood, half-naked and trembling, while the man grilled him and Brian and threatened to arrest them both.

Thank God Brian was with me! Justin thought. But he’s not here now. And so I’m hiding like a fucking pussy!

He watched furtively from the doorway as the cop turned and hurried off. Carl shook his head and started walking Justin’s way, obviously heading to the diner to see Deb.

“Carl!” Justin stepped out.

“Hello, Justin,” said Carl. The older man’s eyes seemed weary and sad. “What’s up?”

There were about a hundred things Justin could have blurted out, but he stopped himself. “That policeman. The one you were talking to. Do you know him?”

Carl’s expression darkened. “Yeah, I know him. Kenny Rikert. Why do you ask?” They both started walking up the sidewalk.

“He... he stopped me once. Asked to see my I.D.” Justin swallowed, uncertain of how much to say. What if this guy was a friend of Carl’s? After all, they were both cops. “I thought he wanted to arrest me. He didn’t. But he... he said something weird to me.”

Carl’s looked closely at Justin, his eyes immediately alert. “Said what to you, son?”

“I can’t remember exactly. But it creeped me out. Then he almost arrested me and Brian after the Halloween Party at Babylon. The way he looked at me then...” Justin shivered, and not with the cold.

Carl frowned. “How did he look at you?”

“Like he hated me,” said Justin. “But also like he... he wanted me. That’s what really scared me. Who is that guy?”

“He’s Chief Stockwell’s former partner,” said Carl. The disgust in his voice was palpable. “I mean MAYOR Stockwell. And that connection gives Rikert a free pass to do anything he wants in this city. At least he thinks so. I saw him walking here in his uniform just now. He’s off-duty and he’s not supposed to do that. And he’s also not supposed to...” Carl hesitated.

“Not what?” Justin prodded, his curiosity piqued.

“He’s been warned to stay away from Liberty Avenue,” Carl said flatly. “That’s all I can say. When I saw him here, I told him off. Told him I’d report him if I saw his ass down here again. But he thinks he’s bullet-proof. And with Jim Stockwell on his side, he’s probably right.”

“Bullet-proof? What did he do?” Justin asked. “Or what do they think he did?” 

Carl gazed at Justin. Then he sighed. “Probably nothing. It’s mainly rumors. Gossip at the station. But I’ll tell you one thing, son – stay the hell away from Kenny Rikert! I mean it.”

The little hairs on the back of Justin’s neck rose. “I will,” he said.

They stopped in front of the Liberty Diner.

“You coming in?” asked Carl.

Justin shook his head. “No. I have some things I have to do.” 

“Okay,” Carl nodded. “But don’t forget what I told you.”

“I won’t.”

Carl went inside. Through the big front window Justin could see Deb happily greet her husband. Put her arms around him and give him a big hug.

Justin walked back to the Jeep and then drove away from Liberty Avenue. Headed out of downtown to his old neighborhood. His old house.

To have it out with his mother.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin confronts Jennifer.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Jennifer Taylor was having a lousy day. And it was just about to get a lot lousier.

She was expecting the real estate agent that morning, which meant that she had to call Craig and attempt to talk to him about a few things regarding the house. As usual, he was a total asshole to her over the phone, so much so that she ended up hanging up on him.

She shut her eyes as she stood there, clutching the phone in her hand. She was trying to be adult about this whole divorce. She and Craig had agreed to it. They both wanted it. In fact, they had both wanted it for a long time. Even their couples counselor had agreed that since there seemed no way they could reconcile, it was the best course of action. But that didn’t make it any easier, especially not when children were involved.

Molly would take it the hardest. She had been asking about the possibility for a while now. She saw what her friends went through when their parents’ marriages broke up and she didn’t want that to happen to her. 

“You are going to get a divorce, aren’t you, Mommy? Please don’t! Please!” Molly had begged. And Jennifer’s heart broke every time she reassured her that they wouldn’t.

Well, now they were. The lies were over. And her daughter would probably never forgive her.

At least Justin was out of the house and living his own life. He wasn’t as naive as Molly about the state of the relationship between her and Craig, so their break-up would come as no surprise. That was one relief.

Jennifer wished this whole mess could have happened some other time, but that was no longer an option. Thanksgiving had been brutal and Jennifer had feared Christmas would be even worse. But with Craig out of the house they might have some semblance of a holiday. A shattered holiday, yes, but at least they’d have one.

She poured herself another cup of coffee and looked at her watch. The real estate woman was due any minute. Jennifer knew her by sight – she had a daughter at Molly’s school – and when they talked on the phone she had seemed like a sympathetic person. She’d also gone through a nasty divorce herself a few years ago so she told Jennifer to expect the worst, no matter what her lawyer might tell her. A man you thought you knew well becomes a complete stranger when he’s sitting opposite you in a law office, sorting out your entire life, piece by piece. Jennifer dreaded that. Dreaded the division of the property. Dreaded the gossip. And most of all dreaded the knowledge that she’d failed. That their family had become a statistic. That while she had been busy trying to be the perfect wife and mother, the entire foundation of their marriage was crumbling beneath her.

That’s what really hurt. That’s what she’d never get over.

She heard a car pull into the driveway and she glanced out the window. But it wasn’t Jayne Putnam, the real estate woman.

It was Justin.

He was the last person she expected this morning.

“Darling, is anything the matter?” she said as her son barrelled through the kitchen door. His face looked so troubled. “Has something happened?”

“How could you?” Justin blurted out. “How the fuck could you do this!”

“What?” Jennifer recoiled. “What do you mean?”

“I had to hear it from Debbie Horvath!” Justin shouted in her face. “At the fucking diner! Everyone knows! Everyone but me! How were you planning on telling me, Mom? At Christmas? Why not have Santa put a little note in my stocking – ‘Merry Christmas! Your parents are getting a divorce! Ho Ho Ho!’”

Jennifer stepped back to catch breath. “Is that what this is all about? The divorce?”

Justin blinked at her. “What the fuck do you think? What else would I be talking about?”

“I don’t know,” said Jennifer. “You were so upset I thought maybe something was wrong between you and Brian.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Justin hissed. “That would be great karma, Mom. Since I broke up your marriage, I’m sure you and Dad would love to see Brian and me break up, too! Well, we aren’t breaking up! Nothing can make us break up! EVER! Not you or Dad or your fucking divorce!”

Justin turned to walk out, but Jennifer grabbed his arm. “Justin! Wait! What ever gave you the idea that you have something to do with this divorce?”

“Well, duh!” said Justin. “I’m not a child, Mom. And I’m not stupid! Everything in this family has gone to hell since I came out. You and Dad do nothing but fight! And Dad hates me! If I didn’t know it after graduation, then I sure as fuck knew it after Brian and I came over here on Thanksgiving!”

Jennifer gazed sadly at her son. He was so hurt. So angry. And she didn’t blame him. She wished that Craig was here to see this. To see what his pigheadedness had done to their son. Not that it would make any difference to Craig. He would never be convinced that he was wrong. Jennifer used to think that Craig’s steadfastness was his greatest strength. Now she saw it for what it really was – blind stubbornness.

“Justin, sit down.” Jennifer pulled out a chair from the kitchen table.

“I don’t want to sit down,” Justin said sullenly.

“Please?” Jennifer begged. “We need to talk.”

Justin eyed his mother suspiciously. But then he slumped into the seat, his head down. He’d listen to her, but he already knew what she’d say. That it was all for the best. That it had nothing to do with him. That it wouldn’t be the end of their family. All the usual fucking lies!

Jennifer poured a large glass of milk and set it in front of her son. He hesitated for a moment, then picked it up and took a drink. She sat down in the opposite chair.

“First of all, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she began. “I should have. You’re a grown man and you deserve the truth.”

“You’re damn right I do!” Justin set down the glass. He was thirstier than he’d thought. And hungry, too. But he wouldn’t give his mother the satisfaction of letting her know that.

“Justin, you seem to think all of this is your fault,” Jennifer continued. “That it’s because your father found out you were gay. That’s not the reason.”

Justin snorted. “I knew you’d say that! It’s bullshit! I know how Dad feels! He’s made it clear enough!”

Jennifer stared at her son. “Did it ever occur to you that not everything in the world is about you?”

“Huh?” Justin swallowed. “What?”

“I said that not everything in this world revolves around you!” she informed him. “Not even everything in this family! Because it’s true that Daddy is angry and disappointed in you. He’s having a hard time coming to terms with your sexuality. The truth is that he may never come to terms with it. He’s being a jerk and I won’t argue the point. But there are other reasons a couple splits up. Yes, your coming out didn’t help things, but it didn’t cause this divorce to happen. It... it would have happened anyway. Maybe not right now, but eventually. It was inevitable.”

Justin frowned. “But I thought that... I mean after what he said to me and Brian...”

But Jennifer cut him off. “Your father is having an affair. He’s been having it for over two years. I didn’t want to tell you, because I didn’t want to acknowledge it myself. But it’s the truth. That’s why we’re breaking up. I’ve suspected it for a long time, but I finally confronted your father about it and he admitted it. It’s with a woman who works in the office at the store. Craig has... “ Jennifer’s voice broke. “He’s moved out of the house and in with her. I’m expecting the real estate woman any minute now. We’ll have to sell the house. I don’t know where Molly and I will go, but that’s it. That’s the end.” And she began to sob.

Justin got up and went around the table to his mother. Put his arms around her and held her tightly. That’s when he realized that he was crying too.

“I’m sorry, Mom! So fucking sorry!” he said, leaning his head against his mother’s. “It’ll be okay! It won’t be the end of our family! You still have me and Molly! And Brian, too! Fuck Dad! Let him go! You’ll be better off without him! You’ll see!”

“I know,” Jennifer sniffed. “But it’s still difficult. So damn difficult!”

There was a knock on the kitchen door and then it opened. “Jennifer Taylor?” It was the real estate agent, Jayne Putnam. But she stopped when she saw the two tearful faces looking up at her. “Oh, excuse me!” she said, backing out. “Perhaps I should come back a little later?”

Justin stood up and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “No, it’s all right. I have to go now.” He turned to his mother. “You do what you have to do. Mom. I’ll call you later. I love you.”

“And I love you, too, darling.”

Jennifer watched as her son walked out the door. He was a man. There was no doubt about it.

And she’d never felt more proud of him in her life. Or felt more alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stefan Radev's penthouse.

San Francisco, November 2005

 

Two seconds after he stepped into Stefan Radev’s penthouse suite at The Maxim, Brian wanted it.

He wanted the sleek, pale Italian furniture. He wanted the clean, spare window treatments. He wanted the recessed lighting. And he wanted the abstract mural that covered one entire wall – a bold, vaguely ominous piece of red and black that stood in stark contrast with the cool ivory tones of the rest of the room.

He wished Justin could see that mural.

“That’s a Sam Auerbach, isn’t it?” Brian commented as Stefan Radev immediately put a drink into his hand. Brian took a sip. Crown Royal Canadian. Not bad. He’d almost forgotten what really prime booze tasted like. Almost, but not completely.

“Why, yes, Mr. Kinney,” said Radev in surprise. He scrutinized Brian more closely. “You know contemporary art?”

Brian shrugged. “Only a little. But I know Sam Auerbach. He had a show in Pittsburgh. A friend of mine was fucking him.”

Radev glanced at Brian questioningly. “I thought Auerbach was straight. In fact, he’s an infamous womanizer.”

“Which would make sense, since my friend is a woman,” Brian returned.

“Oh, I see,” Radev said, smiling. “I simply assumed...”

“I do know some women,” said Brian. “One or two. This one happens to be the mother of my son, Gus. She’s usually a lesbian, but every decade or so she has the urge for some dick. And who can blame her?”

“I certainly would not, Mr. Kinney,” Radev agreed. This Brian is not only beautiful, he is also amusing, thought Radev. The perfect man to promote my new hotel. “So, do you like my cozy flat?”

“Very much. But please call me Brian. If we’re going to be working together, I think we should be on a first name basis, don’t you agree?”

Stefan Radev was in his mid-fifties, but he knew he was still a handsome, desirable man. A careful skin care regime and some discreet ‘freshening’ by his plastic surgeon saw to that. He was also used to impressing people. And used to getting what he wanted. He leered at the younger man. “Certainly, Brian. And you must call me Stefan.”

Brian noted the trace of a European accent that was more pronounced when Radev spoke his own name.

He moved around the room, checking out Radev’s carefully chosen details. “I also like my own room – Stefan. Comfortable, but not cloying. I hate decor that’s over-the-top.” He had a sudden flashback to the Laura Ashley nightmare of the inn where he and Justin had stayed last spring. Or the cluttered guesthouse in Boston. This was much more to his liking. “The Art Deco theme fits this building, but you don’t over do it. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of that style. I’ve spent some time in Miami and I think it’s cartoonish. I usually love Philippe Starck’s designs, but The Delano is like a caricature of a South Beach hotel. Frankly, it’s a bit too garish for my tastes.”

Radev raised an eyebrow. “You have a point, Brian. Which hotels in South Beach do you feel are not a bit too garish, as you say?”

“The Key Largo,” Brian said quickly. That was one of his favorites. “It’s intimate, but you can still have a good time there. And it’s not a parody of a Miami hotel. It’s got the Art Deco touches, but it’s¬ cleaner. More modern. I stayed there for the White Party a number of years back.”

“I know,” Radev said slyly.

Brian frowned. “You know?”

“Yes.” Radev picked up the bottle of Crown Royal and refilled Brian’s glass. “I saw you there. At a reception hosted by Tony Conway. Larch, Keller, and Conway did the P.R. for the event. Because, you see, I own The Key Largo.”

“Shit!” Brian exclaimed, shaking his head ruefully. That’s what happens when I come into a meeting unprepared. “I should have known! Thanks for letting me make an ass of myself.”

“On the contrary, Brian, you did not make an ass of yourself.” Radev took a sip of his drink. “You gave me your honest opinion. And I agree with you about The Delano. It IS a cartoon. That’s why I wanted my hotel to be in contrast to it.”

“Thank God I didn’t trash the place to your face!” Brian replied. “But you say you met me at the White Party? I must have really been out of it, because I don’t remember you at all.”

Radev held up a finger. “Saw, Brian. We did not meet then. I was a mere observer on that day. But I saw you and I remembered. I have a remarkable eye for beauty, as well as a good memory. I asked Tony Conway about you later. In fact, when I heard you were having – how shall we say? – difficulties with Gardner Vance, I may have made a suggestion to him that you might be quite suited to public relations work. And especially suited to working on my account.”

Brian nodded. A few things about his new job were being to make sense. “You know about what happened at Vangard?”

Radev sighed. “The story isn’t exactly unknown among a certain group of influential gay men. And you aren’t exactly unknown among that same group, Brian, although you often seem to go out of your way to alienate them.”

“The A Gays are a bunch of pretentious pricks – present company excluded, of course.” Brian bowed to his host.

“Of course,” said Radev. “But the A Gays are also wealthy, powerful, and in a position to help you. And to hire you. That was what I suggested to Tony Conway. That a bright, handsome, and in-your-face gay renegade such as yourself would be the perfect spokesman for a gay public relations agency. Vangard did not know how to use you, Brian. Gardner Vance should have put you at the forefront of a campaign to win the growing market of affluent gay consumers. Instead he wasted you hawking... what was it? A cheap fitness center owned by a flabby homophobe. You should have been expanding the Brown Athletics campaign to include openly gay athletes. You should have been breaking new ground with Ramson Pharmaceuticals in promoting their new AIDS drugs. Vance is supposed to be on the cutting edge of advertising, but his own prejudices will fail him in the end. It’s rather sad.” 

“I see you’ve done your homework on me, Stefan.” Brian admired Radev. He was certainly on the ball. But the man also made Brian vaguely uncomfortable. He didn’t like a stranger knowing so much about his life.

“I always do my homework,” Radev stated. “Especially when I am planning to work closely with someone.”

“And you’re planning to work closely with me?” Brian asked. “How closely?”

“That depends upon you.” Radev reached into his pocket and retrieved a gold cigarette case. He offered a slim, brown cigar to Brian. Then he took one for himself. 

“I thought there was no smoking allowed in this hotel,” said Brian, as Radev lit his cigar with a matching gold lighter.

“There isn’t.” Radev blew out a puff of blue smoke. “Except in my suite. Anything I wish is allowed here.”

“Anything? I see,” Brian said. “I think.”

Radev moved closer. Maybe a little too close. “Perhaps you do, Brian. Or perhaps you do not. As I said, it’s up to you.”

Brian nodded. He smoked the thin cigar and stared at the red and black Auerbach mural on the far wall. Something about it screamed, “Warning!” But he wasn’t sure exactly what it was warning him about.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussion in San Francisco.

San Francisco, November 2005

 

Before Brian could say anything more to Stefan Radev, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Funny, thought Brian as Radev went to answer it, I’d usually be feeling revved up right about now. A beautiful apartment in a great city. Prime liquor. The promise of a first rate dinner. And a rich and powerful man putting the moves on me. That should be making me rock hard and cocky as hell.

But it wasn’t. That was the strange thing.

Instead, Brian felt tired. Maybe it was the long plane ride. Or maybe he wasn’t fully recovered from his recent intestinal meltdown. But there was still an important dinner meeting to get through. His new bosses would be inspecting him from top to bottom, trying to see exactly what they were getting in their new P.R. associate.

He’d be brilliant, of course. He was always brilliant. But public relations wasn’t advertising. It was a different game with a different spin. But one thing never changed – pleasing the client was the top priority. 

Brian watched as his host opened the door. It was Tony Conway, the man who had hired him.

Tony beamed when he saw Brian. They had tricked the first time at the White Party in South Beach, after the event Larch, Keller, and Conway threw at The Key Largo Hotel. Tony was a little older than Brian, but he’d been a hot guy back then. It had been a pleasure to fuck him.

Brian had cut quite a swath through the Miami boys that year. That had been the same White Party where he’d hooked up with Ben Bruckner. Of course, Brian hadn’t remembered Ben’s name, if he’d ever even bothered to find it out, but Tony Conway he remembered. Tony became a good business connection. Advertising men and P.R. flacks often crossed paths, especially when they worked in the insular world of gay-oriented business. You tended to see the same people at the same events, flogging the same products. Exclusive travel. Booze. Trendy cars. High-end fashion and over-priced underwear. Condoms and lube. And meds to keep down your viral load. 

Brian had met up with Tony a few more times in various cities and they always had a drink and a friendly fuck. Brian had never mentioned that fact to anyone. He always liked to keep up the illusion that he never did any guy twice. Obviously, he did. The pool of decent fucks in Pittsburgh was fairly small, so he had short list of guys who were good for a repeat performance. And there were the guys in other cities who he’d use as fall backs if he was in town and didn’t have time to hit the bars or the clubs. ‘One Fuck’ Kinney’s Little Black Book was actually quite extensive and he used it a lot more than he liked to admit.

Or had used it. Although he still tricked when the opportunity presented itself, he found that since Justin had been living with him, the urge to prowl was no longer as acute as it had been. The restlessness which had driven him to search the streets, the bars, the baths, and anywhere else he might find a handy mouth or welcoming ass no longer overwhelmed him.

Still, he’d been looking forward to hooking up with Tony and cementing his place in the company. But now that Tony was in front of him, Brian found he wasn’t really interested. Tony was still a good-looking guy. Not really hot anymore, but okay. He’d put on weight and lost some hair. And his fashion sense hadn’t improved one lick. Tony’s ill-fitting suit looked straight off the rack from Barney’s.

Unlike Stefan Radev. His bespoke suit and silk tie screamed Savile Row. There was nothing like British tailoring if you were that type, Brian thought. He could see himself wearing something like that when he was older. Going more for the classic British look instead of the Italian. The squarer cut flattered a body no longer as slender as it once was.

But that wouldn’t be for a long time. Not until he was much, much older. Brian wasn’t ready to concede that yet. He was only 34, after all. Tonight he’d be the youngest man in the room. And the hottest. And the most desirable. No one would doubt that for a moment.

Tony Conway grabbed Brian’s hand and then embraced him. “I can’t believe you’re really coming to work for us! You’re going to love it here, Brian, especially after Pittsburgh!”

Radev frowned. “What is Pittsburgh like? I have never been there.”

“It’s not San Francisco, that’s for sure!” Tony replied. “Besides being a dying city in the rustbelt with winters that would make a polar bear cry, it’s run by a homophobic mayor who thinks he’s presiding over a goddamn police state!” He turned back to Brian. “I can’t believe you didn’t get out of there years ago.”

As much as he agreed with Tony’s assessment of the Pitts, hearing someone else run it down made Brian uneasy. “It wasn’t always so bad. And it’s my hometown. I have some very good friends there.” And as he said it, he realized that it was simply the truth.

Tony smirked. “But you’ll make better friends out here, Brian. We already have a full calendar of promotions for the coming year and I want you to be involved in our most exclusive events. That’s why I wanted you to come out for the planning of the Christmas and New Year’s parties at The Maxim. This is going to be an important destination, right Stefan?”

Radev handed Tony a drink. Brian noticed that he gave Tony a glass of Chivas Regal instead pouring from the rarer bottle of Crown Royal Canadian he’d given himself – and Brian. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “I want The Maxim to be the first place the elite gay traveler thinks of when he’s planning a trip to San Francisco. Tony and his partners have been very successful at promoting The Key Largo in Miami, as well as my other properties in Key West, Palm Springs, and on Maui. But I consider The Maxim to be my crown jewel – at least I hope it will become so. San Francisco is the capital of gay life. It’s vital that my hotel reflect that.”

“That’s a tall order,” said Brian. “There are many fine hotels in this city. The Ritz-Carlton. The Prescott. The Triton. The Fairmount...” 

“Yes, those are all fine establishments,” said Radev with a dismissive wave. “But my hotel is different. I want it to be select. I want it to be a place that is known to all, but available only to those who will truly appreciate it. That is why I chose this building. Large enough for the amenities, but small enough to feel like a private club. That is the aura I wish to project. That of an exclusive club, as you might find in London.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “An exclusive club where you can get a quick blowjob from the waiters? I think I’ve stayed at that place!”

Tony laughed, but Radev kept a straight face. “VIP clients expect a certain level of service, Brian.”

Brian nodded and swirled the golden liquor around in his glass. “I know, but you need to decide whether you’re running a classy hotel – or a sex club. And I don’t think the two are compatible. Not even for gay men.”

Tony threw Brian a warning glance. “Stefan knows what he’s doing, Brian. He’s been in the hotel business for twenty years.”

Brian shrugged. “I’m only giving you my honest opinion.”

There was a knock on the door.

“That must be the rest of our party,” said Radev. “Please excuse me.” And he went to greet Tony’s partners, Dan Larch and Jon Keller.

“Brian, why are you pissing off Radev?” Tony hissed. Maybe hiring a loose cannon like Brian Kinney hadn’t been such a great idea. “This is one of our major accounts!”

“He doesn’t seem pissed off,” Brian stated. “Radev doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who wants to be surrounded by yes-men. In my experience, I’ve found that clients respect a man who tells them the truth, so I always tell the truth, even if it’s a little painful. We just met, but Radev seems to respect me.”

Tony Conway sniffed and belted back his drink. “That’s because he’s hot for you!”

Brian gazed back at his new boss evenly. “I don’t think I’m his type.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Brian, you’re everyone’s type! You know that better than anyone else!” He paused and then added. “Radev was the one who suggested we hire you. He’d heard about what happened with Gardner Vance and thought you might be available. I never thought you’d agree to go with a P.R. firm, but when you accepted the job, we were all delighted. So don’t fucking blow it the very first night!”

“I have no intention of blowing it,” Brian retorted. “Or blowing Radev, either. But I’ll do a fabulous job on his campaign – like I always do. I give 200% on everything I do and you know it, Tony. Radev can get a quick fuck in this hotel any minute of the day – the bellboys practically drop to their knees if you blink your eyes at them. So is that why you hired me? To whore me out to your clients?”

“Of course not, Brian!” Tony insisted.

“Because if that’s the case, I can leave tonight.” Brian took a deep breath. Strangely enough, he heard Justin's angry voice in his head, saying, "Don't call yourself that!" when he'd jokingly referred to himself as the Whore of Liberty Avenue. Now it no longer seemed so funny. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about my past or what you think I am now, but I won’t sell myself to win an account. I may have been a slut in my personal life, but I’m not... not a whore.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin considers things.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

After he left his mother, Justin drove around for a while, trying to clear his head.

Sometimes things seemed so simple. 

He was gay. He loved Brian. They were living together and even though money was tight they were happy. The sex was amazing and he and Brian got along better than any of Brian’s friends could believe. Sure, Brian was moody. He could even be nasty for no apparent reason. But then he’d come to Justin and touch him. Whisper things to him. Look at him in a way that made Justin melt inside. And then all would be well.

And he loved his art class. Finally, he was able to be himself. To express what he was feeling. What he’d been feeling for a long time, but had to suppress. That made him free for the first time in his life. He didn’t have to pretend. Working on his drawings made his heart soar. And now he was beginning to experiment with paint, and although Brian complained about the mess he made in the loft, Justin could tell Brian was impressed by his initial efforts. He’d also been working with a graphics program on Brian’s iMac and come up with some interesting effects. Maybe when they got out to San Francisco he could take a course in computer graphics. Or in animation. That had been one of his dreams as a kid – to be an animator. ‘Yellow Submarine’ was still one of his favorite films. Whenever he felt down, he popped it into the VCR and watched it. And then he rewound and watched it again.

Then there were the things that weren’t so simple.

Those were the things that were hard to deal with. But also the things he had to deal with. Because they weren’t going to go away, no matter how much he wanted them to.

Justin kept driving until he was on the outskirts of the city. He hadn’t realized it, but he was driving in the direction of Wiley, the little town up in the hills where the Fieldstone Inn was located. He and Brian had never gone back to stay there after that memorable spring break, but Brian had stayed in touch with Ilona, the woman who ran the second-hand clothing shop, and he’d bought quite a few garments from her until his suspension from Vangard cut off his fashion addiction.

The weather was cold, but clear and Justin passed a number of ski runs as he drove deeper into the mountains. The Fieldstone Inn and all the other hotels in the area would be full of skiers and snow-boarders. That’s what the lady who ran the Fieldstone had told them – skiing in the winter and antiquing in the summer. 

It must be great at the inn in the middle of winter. Justin pictured their room, with the huge fireplace and the bed with the bouncy mattress. And the Jacuzzi in the bathroom. Maybe he and Brian could spend one last weekend there before they left Pittsburgh for San Francisco. One last little indulgence before they started their new life. Before they left everything behind.

Everything.

That’s what got to Justin.

As the time when they’d have to leave drew nearer, he began to consider what he was leaving behind. Yes, his dad was being a jerk, but Craig was still his father. And he loved his father. They’d hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but Justin remembered when he had idolized Craig. And when Craig had been proud of him. Proud of Justin’s perfect grades and perfect manners. Proud of his perfect blond son. Justin tried to focus on those times, instead of what came later. He didn’t want the bad to erase everything that had been good.

And his mother. They were just beginning to understand each other. If his parents really were going to divorce, Jennifer would be the one who suffered the most. She’d never worked since Justin was born, but now she’d have to support herself and Molly – Justin had no illusions that his father would be generous or even reasonable about the whole thing. Justin wondered what she’d do. He knew that she’d been an Art History major in college and had worked briefly in a store, but Justin had come along quickly and then she’d been a mom. His mom. 

What would it be like to be on the other side of the country from her? And from Molly, too? And everyone he knew? San Francisco sounded exciting, but it was also a city full of strangers. Brian would be busy with work – he’d already warned Justin that P.R. work, like advertising, took up a lot of time – and Justin would need to be independent and find his own way.

Justin kept driving.

He knew exactly where he was going.

The road was steep and a little icy, but the Jeep dug into the road. He felt secure driving, even when it began to flurry a little.

There were no other cars at the lot when he parked. He took the messenger bag that had been in the back seat and slung it over his shoulder as he followed the path up to the lookout. 

It was utterly silent as he gazed over the valley and at the distant foothills of the Appalachians. The mountains were veiled with low, snow-filled clouds as the weak late November sun tried to break through. Justin looked in vain for the eagle they had seen last spring. Looking for the dark boomerang of wing arching overhead. But there was nothing. Only the whistle of the wind. And Justin’s own breath. His heartbeat.

He took his pad and pencils out of the messenger bag and began to draw.

***

It was late in the afternoon when he walked into the loft. He had less than an hour to shower and change to be on time for his shift at the Watermark.

He was pleased with the sketches he’d made at the lookout. Even though his hands and feet felt like blocks of ice, it definitely had been worth it!

The light on the answering machine was flashing furiously.

“Shit!” Justin swore. He reached into his pocket and realized that he’d forgotten his cellphone when he drove Brian to the airport so many hours before. It was sitting on the counter next to his half-drunk cup of coffee.

He picked up the cell and checked his messages. Four from Brian and one from his mother.

Then he hit the button on the answering machine.

“I don’t know where the fuck you are, twat, but it would be nice if you got back to me!” Brian’s voice sounded loud and pissed. But it was also comforting to hear him. Like he was right there in the room, getting ready to ream him out! “Obviously I got to the Coast in one piece. This dinner meeting will probably last until late, so don’t try to call me until after you get off work. Remember to lock the door and set the alarm when you leave and also before you go to bed. And clean up your shit, too. I don’t want the place looking like a pig sty when I get home! I guess that’s all. If you can tear yourself away from whatever else is so important, I’ll talk to you later.”

Such a typical Brian message, Justin thought. Bitching and worrying and giving orders all at the same time!

He listened to the messages on the cell. More of the same, with each one more annoyed than the one preceding it.

“It least he’s thinking about me.” Justin started to delete, but then changed his mind. He liked listening to Brian’s voice, even when the messages weren’t exactly love songs.

Except... that they were. Brian thinking about him. Brian wondering where he was. Brian warning him to be careful. He knew enough about Brian’s life before he had entered it to know that Brian had been infamous for not giving a shit about anyone but himself. At least that was the considered knowledge about Brian A. Kinney.

But Justin knew Brian did care about people. Certain people. People who meant something to him. People he loved. Michael. Lindsay. Gus. Deb. The late and lamented Vic. He might be dismissive of them and even seem to treat them with the off-hand disdain – some would say contempt – he reserved for the world in general. 

But Justin saw the difference. He saw the way he coddled Michael, who often wavered between acting like a grown man and father and behaving like a petulant child. And the way he soothed Lindsay when there was some minor domestic disaster, which seemed to be every other day. Or the way he deferred to Deb as if she were his mother, even as he gave Justin a look that told him Brian thought she was full of crap. 

And then there was the tender way he held Gus’s small hand when they walked together, Brian leaning his tall form down or shortening his long stride to match his son’s. The way he looked at the boy, knowing that he’d never be more than a shadowy figure in his life. And when they moved to San Francisco, he’d be even further removed from Gus’s life.

They’d both be leaving so much behind.

Justin called Brian’s cell. As he expected, it went to voicemail.

“Brian, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything when I talk to you tonight. I’m leaving for work soon. I hope your meeting goes great. And never forget that I love you. Always. So – later.”

Justin snapped the phone shut and went to get dressed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in San Francisco.

San Francisco, November 2005

 

Tony Conway was taken aback by the vehemence of Brian’s outburst. He’d always thought of Brian as an anything-goes kind of guy. Someone who was untroubled by, or even proud of his sexual reputation. 

“I’m sorry, Brian,” said Tony. “I never meant to suggest that. You know that’s not why we hired you. We hired you because you’re the best at what you do. And we wanted to take full advantage of that fact before someone else got to you first.”

“Gentlemen?” There was Stefan Radev, with his smoothly handsome face. A face that had been debrided of all real intent or emotion. “All of our party has now arrived.”

“Hello, Brian!” Jon Keller extended his hand. “Long time no see!”

Brian shook Jon’s hand, then that of his partner, Dan Larch. He’d fucked both of them on a trip to Palm Springs about three years ago at a party their firm was throwing at a resort there, The Inn Discrete. Come to think of it, that was probably the place owned by Radev. Radev may even have been there, but Brian hadn’t met him then either. Radev was becoming a strangely shifty character in Brian’s life and, once again, that made him uneasy.

“Hello, Jon. And Dan. Good to see you again,” Brian acknowledged.

Jon was short and enthusiastic. He’d obviously been a cute little blond at one time, but now he was a bluff, stocky guy in his forties with a fake-looking tan. Dan, his partner in business and in life, was the hotter of the two, taller and leaner, but he had a pinched look, his brow permanently furrowed with worry. Dan was the real heart of Larch, Keller, and Conway Associates. He’d founded the firm when there were few openly gay businesses, even in San Francisco. But they’d made a success, working their very specific market aggressively. That meant a client like Stefan Radev, who owned gay hotels in multiple cities, was more than just an important asset, the way Leo Brown was to Vangard. Radev was also a symbol. They were two gay powerhouses working together, outside of the straight mainstream and independent of men like Jim Stockwell who would work to shut them down, or like Gardner Vance, who would marginalize them.

“It’s great to have you here,” said Dan. He gave Brian a tight-lipped smile. “Did Tony tell you about our plans for you?”

“Not yet.” Brian glanced at their other partner. There was some sort of relationship between the two of them and Tony that went beyond business. Or there had been in the past. Brian could feel the emotional tension there. He wondered if Radev could feel it, too. Probably. And he’d make it work to his advantage. 

“We haven’t really been talking business... yet,” Tony replied. 

Radev cleared his throat. “Shall we move into the other room, gentleman? I think it’s time to begin dinner. Then we may get down to brass tacks, as they say.” 

This is going to be interesting, thought Brian, as Radev gently took hold of Brian’s elbow and steered him into the dining room.

***

The dinner – tapas appetizer tray, lobster salad, medallions of veal with asparagus and cauliflower – was excellent. And, even better, the booze was first-rate. Radev liked good liquor, that was certain. And the conversation was... revealing. Very revealing.

For the most part Brian sat back and watched the dynamics among the three partners as they discussed the events they had planned for The Maxim’s holiday calendar. And he watched Stefan Radev watching the dynamics among the three partners.

Tony Conway was the idea man. He dreamed up the promotions that would best fit the venues of their clients. He was undoubtedly a creative guy, if a bit obvious. The themes of his parties tended to the typical gay clichés – ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ divas in drag, campy old films, muscle boys in Speedos, that kind of thing. And Brian had to admit that it was effective. Effective... but also boring. Occasionally he came up with a different take. The White Party event Larch, Keller, and Conway had hosted at The Key Largo had an arctic theme. In the middle of Miami’s tropical glory you found yourself surrounded by fake snow, dogsleds, muscle boys in furry Speedos, and everything in white. Brian thought it was a brilliant move. But those innovative ideas seemed few and far between lately.

Jon Keller was the contact man. He was the one who worked with the clients and coordinated logistics. He was the ‘people person’ of the three and he knew how to work that role. Jon seemed to knew everyone who was anyone, no matter what the city or the business. If you needed to fly Santa Claus into your party by helicopter, he’d arrange it with only a day’s notice. If you wanted Superman to skydive into your party, that wasn’t a problem either – Jon knew a skydiving Superman personally and had fucked him, too. Jon also had extensive contacts with the Pink Mafia in Hollywood. He was regularly able to get B and C List gay celebrities – both out and closeted – to appear at events, provided the client had the required bucks or was able to offer tempting perks. Brian had been surprised to see a deeply closeted television star, Peter Bridges, openly mingling – and eagerly groping – the boys at the Palm Springs party he’d attended. What had they offered Bridges to show up? Probably plenty. Those offers were Jon’s job and he did it better than almost anyone in P.R.

Dan Larch was the oldest partner and the money man. His background was in accounting and he reminded Brian a little of Theodore, if Theodore had been taller, hotter, and richer. Dan had the bland, fretful demeanor of a man who stared at numbers all day. When he smiled it seemed a painful effort. That was the way he fucked, too – like it was chore rather than a pleasure.

Brian wondered how he and perky little Jon had ever hooked up, they seemed such a complete mismatch. But he knew they’d been together for over ten years, so something was up with them. Maybe it was only a business partnership at this point. Maybe their lives were so intertwined that they had to stay together to risk having the whole company fall apart. Or maybe it was that ‘opposites attract’ nonsense. Whatever. Brian didn’t understand how most relationships worked anyway, so what was the use in speculating?

Funny how he’d never thought about this kind of crap before. Before Justin. Relationships. He still thought they were bullshit. Guys got together and fucked. That he understood. But why did they stay together? Why did they live together? Or want to BE together? Yes, he was doing it, but he still didn’t understand it. Which meant he no longer understood himself.

If he’d ever fucking understood himself. That was the real question.

He unconsciously touched the inside pocket of his jacket. But his cell wasn’t there. He’d left it in his room, on the table next to the bed. He’d done that purposefully. It was bad form to take a call at a dinner meeting like this, especially when he was the new kid in town and under scrutiny by both his new bosses and an important client. Fuck it, he sighed. He was too eager to hear from Justin, his fingers itching to touch the smooth silver shell of the Razr. That’s why he’d left it behind.

But where the fuck was Justin? And why hadn’t he answered his cell? He better fucking answer it when Brian called him tonight or he’d kick that kid’s plump little ass!

“Brian? Would you like some trifle?” Radev indicated the young waiter standing by holding a large glass bowl. The dessert was a custardy concoction filled with fruit and topped with whipped cream. It looked like about a thousand calories a bite.

Brian shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m not a big dessert man.”

“That’s how he stays so thin!” Jon chirped. “I’ll take his portion!” The waiter moved over and filled Jon’s plate.

“Then how about something else to cap your meal?” Radev motioned to a second waiter, who brought over a dark, squat bottle and poured a sliver of liquid into a tiny glass. “It’s Bulgarian. I brought it from Sofia.”

“Is that where you’re from?” Brian figured it never hurt to ask a direct question. He was curious to know if the accent was real or a weird affectation.

“Originally,” Radev admitted. “I return there on occasion. For personal reasons.”

“But not for business?” Brian asked. “Eastern Europe is opening up. The gay tourist market in the Czech Republic is on the rise – at least from what I’ve been told. All those horny guys who watch European porn think it’s a fag’s paradise!”

Radev frowned. “It is far from a paradise, I assure you. And you are right that it is a new and growing market. But I prefer to focus on the States for now.”

Brian tasted the liqueur. It was too bitter, with an overwhelming flavor of anise. It was like sucking on a large licorice stick – and not in a good way.

“You don’t like it,” Radev said, watching Brian’s slight grimace. “It is too strong for you, I see.”

“No. It’s just not my style.” Brian emptied the tiny glass defiantly. Nothing was too strong for Brian Kinney! Bring it on, Stefan! 

“Perhaps I shall find out what IS your style during your stay here, Brian.” Radev sat back in his chair and lit another slim cigar. He blew out a puff of smoke and smiled.

“Maybe you will,” said Brian. “And maybe you won’t.”

They all talked a while longer, but it was getting late. Brian furtively glanced at his watch. He wanted to get back to his room and check his messages.

“I think it’s time to adjourn for the evening,” Dan finally said, pushing back his chair. His two partners followed his lead and stood, so Brian did the same. “I’ll send over those schedules tomorrow, Stefan.”

“Very good.” Radev got up and escorted them all to the door. “I will call you with further suggestions.”

Dan nodded, then turned to Brian. “We’d like you to come to the office tomorrow morning and meet the staff. Get a feel for the way we operate.”

“Sounds good,” said Brian. “I also need to start looking for a place to live.”

“I can help you with that,” Tony interjected. “We’ll find you something, Brian. Can’t have you camping on the sidewalk in front of the Castro Theater!”

The men moved out the door towards the elevator. 

But Radev touched Brian’s arm, stopping him. “You don’t have so far to go. Only downstairs. Perhaps you will stay and have another drink with me? I have an extensive bar here. Then we will begin to find something that is more your style, no?”

Christ, Brian thought. I don’t need this tonight.

Then he turned and followed Radev back into the penthouse.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin waits.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

The dinner shift at the Watermark was a disaster.

Justin couldn’t keep his mind on his work and, consequently, he kept fucking up. Of course, Clarence was right there every time he made a mistake. Sneering at every stumble. Glaring at every knocked over water glass. The wrong dessert he served to cranky 10 year old. The soup he almost – almost! – spilled on an old lady. His lack of enthusiasm in singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to a giggling woman and her gaggle of girlfriends.

Finally, he’d had enough.

“If you keep riding my ass all night, I’m going to have to start charging you,” said Justin as he found Clarence breathing down the back of his neck yet again.

“Keep it up, Taylor,” Clarence retorted. “You’ll find that well-upholstered ass out of a job!”

“I’ll consider it my Christmas present,” Justin breathed through gritted teeth.

“What did you say?” Clarence whipped around.

“Nothing, Mr. Ramsey.” Then Justin picked up his tray and swept out into the dining room.

Man, it’ll feel so fucking good the day I quit this job! he thought as he served his final table. I’ll take all the tips I’ve been saving and treat Brian to dinner at Angelo’s. Or maybe even the Limelight. I’ll reserve a corner table and ask the pianist to play ‘our song.’ That’ll be a romantic moment even Brian won’t be able to deny!

Justin paused. What the fuck WAS ‘their’ song? Did they even have one? He tried to remember if any music had been playing the first time they fucked. But all he could remember was Brian’s heavy breathing and that wheezing sound coming from his nose. Oh, and the feeling that Brian was shoving a broomstick up his ass! The only music in the loft that night was Justin moaning and crying, “Oh my God!” about a million times!

Well, they met on Christmas Eve, so their song was probably a Christmas carol. But not the Village People singing that ‘Macho Man’ Christmas song. Anything but that!

“Waiter? Excuse me? Could we have our check, please?”

“Certainly, sir.” Justin was happy to oblige. One more table down and two more to finish before he could clean up and get home.

***

There was no new message from Brian, either on his cell or on the loft phone.

Brian probably wasn’t finished with his dinner meeting. San Francisco was three hours behind Pittsburgh and Justin knew that those kinds of meetings with clients usually ran late.

He played Brian’s last message again, just to hear his voice. Brian still sounded pissed off, but then pissed off was Brian’s natural state. Justin walked away from the desk. He hated phone tag. He should probably get some sleep – he hadn’t gotten much the night before – but he couldn’t rest until he heard from Brian. So he cleaned up the kitchen. Made out a shopping list – toilet paper, juice, lube, corn flakes, milk, printer paper. Clinked on the TV to check tomorrow’s weather – colder, with flurries turning to snow.

Tomorrow was the last day of November. It was certainly feeling like December in the loft. He went to turn up the heat, but then decided against it. Brian might have a new job, but the money wasn’t exactly rolling in. That reminded him. He counted out his tips and put them away in the bottom drawer under his tee shirts. That’s where he was keeping the money he was saving to surprise Brian. Besides taking him to dinner, he also wanted to buy him a really nice Christmas present. Something special, since it was also their first anniversary.

He wondered if Brian was going to get him something. Maybe. Or maybe not. Brian wasn’t great about official celebrations. Christmas. Birthdays. Valentine’s Day. They were all bullshit to him. Instead, he was likely to surprise Justin at other times, for other reasons. Or, even more likely, for no reason at all, but just because he felt like it.

It was getting later. And colder. Justin got into bed where it was warmer and pulled the covers up to his chin.

A police car roared down Fuller, siren blaring.

He didn’t like being in the loft alone. He missed Brian. Missed him more than he had imagined possible.

It was weird, but a year ago he hadn’t even known Brian, and now he filled up Justin’s entire life. Everything had been so different then. He’d still been at Dartmouth. And he was still in the closet, at least at home and to his family. His parents were still together. And Brian was only a misty fantasy man, someone he’d conjured up in a dream. A dream he’d had countless times over the years, almost from the moment he’d begun thinking about men. But it was always one man. The same man. That figure who always appeared in his dreams, like a dark and sexy angel. His perfect lover.

Or maybe it wasn’t a dream. Maybe it had been a vision of the future. A fuzzy vision, but a vision nonetheless. Of someone tall and beautiful. Someone strong and fearless who would teach Justin to be strong and fearless, too. That’s what Brian had to offer. That and the most amazing fucking sex anyone ever had – obviously!

But that vision was also of someone sad and unhappy with his life. Someone who had lost all hope. Who had lost faith in the world and in people. Someone who needed what Justin had to offer, which was all of himself. His innocence. His enthusiasm. And his desire to believe in something. To believe in love. To believe in forever. To believe in Brian. That’s what Brian needed, even if he didn’t know it yet. That’s what Justin could teach him.

Justin dozed off. In his dream he and Brian were driving in a car. But it wasn’t the Jeep or the Vette. It was some foreign car and they were driving down narrow roads in some strange country. Brian was crabby and complaining and Justin was laughing at him and they were both having a wonderful time. Then suddenly they were making love. It didn’t matter where or when, just that they were two bodies entwined together, moving as one.

And the music playing – that was odd. It wasn’t like a song, but a weird electronic tone. Like the ringtone of a cellphone.

Justin’s eyes flew open. His cell was sounding loudly on the bedside table. He grabbed the phone and flipped it open.

“Hello!” he shouted.

“Get you out of the shower, Sunshine?” came the familiar voice. “Don’t catch cold!”

“Brian! I must have fallen asleep!” Justin said.

“I would hope so. It must after 3:00 a.m. there. Don’t you have a class in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Justin replied. “My drawing studio. But I was waiting up. You said you’d call me when you got back from your meeting.”

“Well, I’m back,” Brian stated. “I’m ready to fall asleep, too. I had too much rich food and good booze. I’m not used to life in the fast lane!”

Justin snorted. “Not much, you aren’t! Did everything go okay? Did you make a good impression?” 

“I did the best I could,” Brian said off-handedly. “But I always do my best. You know that as well as anyone.”

“I think I do.” Justin tried to stifle a yawn, but didn’t succeed. “Sorry. I’m still waking up.”

“Don’t get too awake,” said Brian. “I only wanted to check in with you. I tried to call you about ten times when I got here, but there was no answer. You might try turning on your phone occasionally!”

“I’m sorry, Brian. I forgot to take my phone when I drove you to the airport. Then I went to the diner and talked to Deb, and then... it’s a long story. I’d rather not go into it now.”

“What’s wrong?” Brian’s voice was sharper. “What happened?”

Justin hesitated. He’d have to tell Brian eventually. But he didn’t want to think about his parents right now. “It’s about my mom and dad.”

“Oh,” Brian sniffed. “Them. Is your father still threatening to have me arrested for child molestation?”

“No, I think he gave up on that when he realized I was over 21.”

“Yeah, a bit,” said Brian. “You’re about to turn 23.”

Justin smiled to himself. “You remembered.”

“Hard to forget when someone is obsessed with celebrating the sad event. The day will come when you’ll regret reminding people how old you are. Women have one thing right – they like to retain a sense of mystery, especially about their ages. So, what’s the deal with Ma and Pa Taylor?”

“They’re getting a divorce,” Justin blurted. There. Now it was out.

“Oh. That’s not much of a surprise.”

“It isn’t?” said Justin.

“Not really,” Brian returned. “Your mother is a nice woman and your old man is a fucking jerk. It just took her this long to realize it. See what ‘true love’ does to you? It blinds you to reality.” Brian paused when Justin didn’t answer. “Are you upset?”

Justin took a deep breath. “Yes.” His voice was barely audible.

“We’ll talk about it when I get home.”

“When’s that? Are you coming home on Friday?” It was now early Wednesday morning.

“No. More like Monday evening.” Brian waited for a response. “Did you hear me? Justin?”

“I heard you. Monday evening. That’s longer than you thought.”

“It’s business. I have a lot to do here. I’m going into the office tomorrow and meet the staff. I also need to look for a place for us to live. And there are two events the firm is sponsoring this weekend that Tony wants me to attend. That’s our reality, kid. I’ll be working a lot, so get used to it.”

“I know,” Justin sighed. He’d gotten used to Brian being around all the time. Hanging out, waiting for Justin to finish work or class. The two of them having a lot of time together. And now that was all over. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Brian pressed. “Do you really understand?”

“I think so, Brian. I... I mean... Yes, I understand. It’s business.”

“Good. Now go back to sleep. I need to get to bed, too. But I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t forget to take my cell with me, so call any time.”

“I will. Goodnight, twerp.”

“Goodnight, Brian. I miss you.”

Justin heard that wheezing sound on the other end. “And I miss you, too. Later.”

“Right, Brian. Later.” And the call ended.

Justin fell back to sleep. But when he awoke he couldn’t remember what dreams he’d had.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's new job.

San Francisco, November 2005

 

The offices of Larch, Keller, and Conway Associates were located a few blocks from The Maxim Hotel in another renovated building on the Castro. But Brian noted that unlike most advertising agencies, including Ryder and Vangard, which tended to project a classy, but solidly conservative image, public relations outfits were all about the glamour and the glitz. 

Instead of modern art pieces – Vangard – or tasteful landscapes – Ryder – the walls of Brian’s new firm were plastered with the faces of celebrities and ads for events they had sponsored from San Francisco to Provincetown and all gay destinations in between. As Tony Conway ushered him through the hallways, Brian spied more than a few events he’d attended. The White Party in South Beach. That party in Palm Springs. The product launch in Chicago where Tony had first introduced him to Dan and Jon. A number of different P-Town events. And a big club opening in New York that had been one of the first out-of-town trips he’d taken after he started working for Marty Ryder.

Fuck, he’d been young then! Not that he wasn’t young now, because he was, but that had been his first real introduction to the world of upscale, hot, and hard-partying men outside of the insular world of Liberty Avenue. Yes, he’d gone to clubs during his semester abroad in London, and he’d done plenty of dancing, drugging, and fucking there, but it just wasn’t the same when you were a provincial student with limited cash and a wardrobe from J.C. Penney’s. He’d managed to make his way there, but he never fooled himself into thinking that the Brits who showed an interest in him ever considered him anything more than a fuckable novelty. But in New York, with an expense account and a suitcase full of brand-new, carefully chosen designer clothes that made him look like a male model, Brian had his first real taste of what his life could be.

“I remember that place,” said Tony, noticing Brian staring at the poster for the opening of Klimmaxx back in 1995. “We hyped the hell out of that club, but it closed after two years. Ever go there?”

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “I was there that night. But two years for a club in Chelsea, that’s about all you can expect. The hot guys like to move on to new territory after a while. Check out the new meat.”

“That’s for sure!” Tony laughed. “I guess there’s only so much even the best P.R. can do. When a place is done, it’s done. So, you were there that night? You must have been just an innocent twink back then!”

Brian narrowed his eyes at Tony. “I was never a twink! Well, not really. Maybe for five minutes. And never innocent.” No, thought Brian, never innocent.

Tony smirked. “I can believe that! I think you must have been born a hot, fully-grown fuck machine!”

“Of course,” Brian stated. “Except I wasn’t born. I was created in a lab by a bunch of horny gay scientists trying to make the perfect man.”

“You crack me up!” said Tony, directing Brian into an empty office. “It’s going to be fun having you around. Have you thought about where you want to live?”

“I have no idea. Wherever I can afford.” Brian looked around. The office was small and nondescript, but there was a nice view of the Castro. “Or I could bring a sleeping bag and camp in here.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Tony. “This was Monty MacDowell’s office. I know it’s not too glam, but you can decorate it any way you want to.”

“It’s fine,” Brian returned. “But I do need to find a place to live as soon as possible.”

“What about The Maxim?” Tony suggested. “It’s close and I know Radev would give you a good deal on your room – or let you stay there gratis until you find a permanent place.”

Brian frowned. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? Radev likes you,” said Tony. “And you’ll be working closely with him. Or is that the problem?” Tony looked closely at Brian. He knew he’d stayed behind to have a drink with Radev after the rest of them left, and he was dying to know if anything had developed between them. But Brian had seemed touchy about any suggestion that he’d fuck a client to get an account. Or keep an account. Or even to make a client happy. But he’d certainly fuck a guy he thought was hot, no matter who he was – and Radev, even if he was in his fifties, was hot. And rich. You could never discount that aspect of his appeal.

“It’s not a problem,” said Brian. “Because he’s a client – and that’s all he is.” Brian turned and stared at Tony. “You want to know if I fucked him, don’t you?”

“Well...” Tony didn’t want to show Brian just how curious he was. Because he was fucking curious!

“I didn’t fuck him,” Brian pronounced flatly. “And I won’t fuck him. I stayed and had one more drink with the guy and that was it.” Brian paused. “And I didn’t piss him off, so don’t worry. I know how to let a guy know that I’m not interested without being an asshole about it.” I hope, Brian added to himself.

“Good,” said Tony. “Right, I mean, no one expects you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. Like you said last night, you’re not... You know...?”

“A whore?” Brian provided the word. “No, I’m not. As long as you know it, and Dan and Jon know it. And as long as Radev knows it, too. Then we can work together like professionals. Understand?”

“Yes, of course,” said Tony. “I understand perfectly. Like professionals.” Suddenly Tony felt on the defensive. Like somehow the dynamics had turned around and Brian was the boss and he was the insecure new hire. How had that happened? “I’ll have my assistant get right on the apartment situation.”

Brian gazed out the window. “I appreciate it. If I have to be here through the weekend, I’d like to look at a few places to at least get an idea of what’s available and how much it’s going to cost.”

“What kind of a place do you have in Pittsburgh?” Tony asked.

“A loft. It suits me perfectly, but I doubt I’ll find anything like that here that I can afford.” 

“San Francisco is pretty pricey,” Tony agreed. “Mark and I bought a condo about a year ago – ouch!”

Brian turned around. “Who’s Mark?”

“Oh, he’s my partner,” Tony said. “I guess I never mentioned him.”

“No, you didn’t.” Jesus, thought Brian. Every fucking guy I know is getting partnered up these days. 

“Mark Lowe. We’re been together a little over two years.” Tony got a goofy smile on his face when he said the guy’s name. “He’s a lawyer. Corporate law. You should come over to dinner while you’re here.” 

Brian shuddered. Fucking dinner parties! It was one thing to have to break bread at Stepford Terrace with Mikey and the Professor, but another thing to make chitchat with his new boss and the boyfriend.

“Maybe.” Brian didn’t want to make any commitments. “But I thought I’d get a feel for the clubs and bars while I’m here. It’s been a while since I’ve spent any time in this city. If I’m going to live here, I want to know the lay of the land, so to speak.”

“Of course,” Tony replied. He’ll be wanting to hit all the hot spots. The bars and sex clubs. Must be nice to be single! But even as Tony thought it, he knew he didn’t mean it. He’d rather be home with Mark these days. Maybe he was getting old. Maybe that was it. “That’s good for business.”

“Yes,” said Brian. “And good for Brian, too. And what’s good for Brian is good for Larch, Keller, and Conway.”

“That’s what we hope,” said Tony. “That’s why we hired you, Brian. New blood. A breath of fresh air. We don’t want to lose our edge, you know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean.” Brian turned and looked out the window again. San Francisco, open your fucking Golden Gates! “I’ll give you that edge. I promise. And I always deliver on my promises.”

Tony was delighted to hear that. “That’s my boy!” he said, slapping Brian on the back. 

Brian winced. He hated that kind of phony straight guy horseplay. But it was part of business. Even in queer business. Even in San Francisco.

Suddenly he thought about Justin. Could see his face as clearly as if he were standing in front of him. Wondered what he was doing at that very moment.

And Brian realized with a start that with this whole fucking gay mecca before him, all he wanted was to be home.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin surprised.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

All weekend Justin felt like a dark cloud was hanging over his head.

Around him he saw people getting ready for Christmas. Now that Thanksgiving was over the lights and displays began to pop up in profusion. It was impossible to escape the Christmas music on the radio, the Christmas specials on television, and ads for Christmas sales in the newspaper. 

Even on Liberty Avenue Christmas preparations were everywhere. The Liberty Diner, with Debbie Horvath as its bright red and green clad centerpiece, was crammed with over-the-top decorations, while the cheesiest carols blared 24/7 from the jukebox. Woody’s had wreaths on every wall and cloying drinks specials featuring eggnog. Even Babylon put their bartenders in Santa hats and the go-go boys in red and white fur-trimmed g-strings.

But Justin didn’t feel in a very Christmasy mood.

Christmas had always been his favorite time of year. He’d been born in December and as a child had always connected the excitement of Christmas with his own personal celebration. Jennifer decorated her house from top to bottom in white and gold, which she considered classier and more tasteful than the more traditional red and green. She always began the day after Thanksgiving and Justin’s childlike excitement grew to a fever pitch when he saw her getting out the ornaments. He knew that HIS day was coming up very soon! First his birthday, then the night Santa came! What could be better?

He’d been eagerly making plans to have some of the gang over for his birthday party. Or ‘cake day’ as Brian sarcastically called it. Brian seemed to have an odd aversion to birthdays. Or any official holiday, for that matter. But Justin plunged ahead with the scheme anyway, knowing that when faced with it happening in his own loft, Brian would go along quietly. Well, maybe not quietly, but he wouldn’t make a stink. At least Justin didn’t think he would.

Then Brian went to San Francisco. It was only for a few days, but Justin hated it. He hated the separation. And, the more he considered it, the more he hated the idea of San Francisco. Hated the idea of being away from everyone and everything he knew.

Once we get there, it’ll be all right, he told himself. Brian and I will be together. It’ll be an adventure. We’ll be rid of Stockwell’s homophobic policies and his goons on every corner. Free of all our family crap. I won’t have to deal with my father’s shitty attitude and Brian won’t have his mother and sister breathing down his neck whenever they wanted something. We’ll be free. We can make a new life in a new place.

But Justin knew he’d miss the gang. Brian’s friends were now his friends, too. Deb and Carl seemed almost like family, and Michael was practically Brian’s brother. And Justin knew how much Brian would miss his son. He didn’t see Gus every day, but he thought about him all the time. Worried about him. Wanted the best for him. Sometimes Justin would catch Brian gazing at the picture he kept on the chest of drawers. Michael had taken it the night Gus was born. Brian held the baby so gently and so proudly, with the kind of smile on his face that Justin rarely saw – a genuinely happy, open smile.

“I was high,” Brian said dismissively when Justin asked him about it. “That’s what ‘E’ will do to you.”

But Justin knew it was more than any drug.

It was love. Pure and simple love.

Justin worked the dinner shift at the Watermark Friday and Saturday nights. He did his job mechanically, knowing that he’d soon give his notice. He almost wished that Clarence would start something with him so he could make a big scene and quit, but he didn’t. He still wanted those tips for his Christmas present for Brian. So he put his head down and powered through the shift, smiling sweetly at everyone, but especially at Clarence. Strangely enough, Clarence seemed to soften towards him a little. Maybe it was the holiday season. Or maybe it was the new busboy, Raul, who had caught Clarence’s attention. Whatever it was, Justin was glad of it. It made his life a lot easier.

On Sunday he got up early and worked brunch. He detested the brunch shift – it was crowded, the customers were crabby, and the food was made up of all the leftovers that hadn’t been sold Friday and Saturday – but it meant he’d have the rest of the day to himself. He still had some work to do on his portfolio for Figure Drawing, so he thought he’d use the free evening to finish as much of it as he could. Classes were almost over and he’d miss hanging out in the Art Building and talking with the other students. He knew there were art schools in San Francisco, but he didn’t know if or when he’d be able to take a class. Come to think of it, he didn’t know what he’d do once he got to San Francisco. He didn’t know where he’d work or even where they would live.

“I don’t know a fucking thing!” he said aloud as he climbed into the Jeep after leaving the Watermark. “That’s the real problem – not knowing!”

He decided to drive over to see his mother. He wanted to talk to her about the divorce. There were so many things he wanted to know. So many things he should have asked her about a long time ago but never did. Now time seemed too short. He pulled into the driveway, but knew immediately that there was no one home. He took out his cell and tried to call her, but it went to voicemail.

“Shit,” he whispered. 

Then he called Brian. That went to voicemail, too.

Tomorrow. Brian would be home tomorrow. Then this uneasy feeling would go away.

He went back to the loft and showered and changed his clothes. Then he called up Daphne and asked her if she wanted to go to the mall with him. He was almost surprised when she said yes. They just didn’t see each other the way they used to. They’d moved on with their lives in so many ways and that made Justin realize that she was another person he would be leaving behind when he left Pittsburgh.

Daphne had graduated from Brown last June and was now back in town working in her father’s law office while she tried to decide whether or not she wanted to go to law school.

“I don’t know,” she said as they wandered around the mall. The excuse was that they were Christmas shopping, but they were mainly talking. It was almost like the old days. “If I went to law school I know I’d do well. And I could always have a job in my dad’s office, but I’m not passionate about it. And I want to be passionate about what I spend the rest of my life doing.”

“I know what you mean,” said Justin. “For four years I studied business, but I never felt anything for it. I never had that fire in my belly to be a good businessman.”

Daphne laughed. “Fire in the belly! That sounds like a Brian phrase.”

Justin tilted his head. “It is. I think that’s what made Brian a great ad man. His passion for it. He still has that passion, and if it weren’t for that fucking Gardner Vance, he’d still have his job and wouldn’t have to go all the way across the country to find a new one!”

“Do you still want to be an artist?” Daphne asked.

Justin took a deep breath. “More than anything. But I have a long way to go. And I’ve wasted so much time already! I’m lucky that Brian is behind me one hundred percent.”

Daphne squeezed Justin’s hand. “Do you really have to leave town?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “I told Brian I’d go anywhere and do anything to be with him and I meant it. Even if it means leaving home. People do that all the time, Daph, if they want to be with the person they love. It’s not so hard.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she said. “I wish things didn’t have to change so much!”

“It’s too late for that,” Justin pointed out. “When we left for college we knew everything would change. Even though we’re both back in the Pitts, we aren’t the same people. You have your life – your job and your boyfriend.” Justin rolled his eyes. He thought Daphne’s boyfriend, Roland, was a major dork. “And I have my boyfriend and my sort-of job. It’s not like we see each other all that much.”

“I know,” Daphne sighed. “Remember when we were at St. James and made plans to run away to New York and live together? I was going to be a big star on Broadway!”

“And I was going to be a famous painter!” Justin poked Daphne’s arm to make her giggle. “But first we were going to be starving artists, like in ‘Rent’! We definitely would have been starving, that’s for sure!”

“It was a nice dream, though, wasn’t it?” said Daphne.

“Yeah,” Justin agreed. “But that’s all it was – a dream.”

After they left the mall, Justin and Daphne went to the Liberty Diner and had dinner. Debbie was working the dinner shift and kept making jokes about Justin’s secret girlfriend, threatening to tell Brian about his ‘date’ with Daphne.

“She’s a freak!” Daph whispered when Deb went to get their drinks.

“I know,” Justin smirked. “But she’s great, too. She’s like a mother to Brian. He’s known her since he was a kid.”

“Why does she keep calling you ‘Sunshine’?”

“That’s her nickname for me,” Justin shrugged. “I know – she’s a little crazy.”

Daphne made a face. “A little? You think?”

They ate their hamburgers and fries and laughed and talked and Justin forgot – at least for a while – that he’d been depressed. But he remembered it again as soon as he’d dropped Daphne off at home. The thought of going back to that dark, chilly, and empty loft gave him a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He parked the Jeep and took the creaky elevator up to the top floor. He unlocked the door and walked in...

And stopped.

His whole body went cold. 

Someone was in the loft.

He knew that Brian had been burglarized more than once. That’s why he had such an extensive security system. Even though the neighborhood had been undergoing gentrification in the years since Brian had moved in, it was still a dicey area and refurbished apartments full of expensive furniture and electronics were prime targets of local thieves.

Justin tried to remember if he’d forgotten to set the alarm before he left, but he was certain he had.

He saw a shadow up in the bedroom. Saw someone move.

Should he turn and run? Take out his cell and call 911?

No! He wasn’t about to be a pussy. “Who’s there! I’m warning you! I’ll call the cops!” 

The figure moved towards him. Out of the shadows.

“You want me to give you the names of a couple of hot cops we could call? I didn’t think you’d be into a threesome. I thought you’d want me all to yourself tonight!”

“Brian!” Justin flew up the steps and into his arms. “I thought you were a burglar! You scared the piss right out of me!”

“Then you better get those nasty pants off right now,” Brian purred, putting his long, damp arms around his lover. He’d just stepped out of the shower and was wrapped in a towel. “I was planning to take them off anyway, so the sooner the better.”

“You said you weren’t coming home until tomorrow!” Justin buried his face against Brian’s chest. It smelled of clean water and sandalwood soap. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

“I know,” said Brian. It felt good to have Justin in his arms. Better even than he had imagined it would be after five days away. “I decided to come back early.”

“Why?” Justin whispered. “Why did you come back early?”

“I was finished with my work there,” Brian replied. “I was sick of staying in a hotel room. I was bored.”

“And?” Justin looked up into Brian’s face.

“And...” Brian put his lips against Justin’s silky hair. “I fucking missed you. That’s why I came back early. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes,” Justin answered. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Was it so hard to say?”

“No,” said Brian in all honesty. “It wasn’t hard at all. And the funny thing about it is that it’s fucking true. I did miss you. And I wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.”

Justin smiled. “I love you, too,” he said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loft talk.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Justin liked lying in Brian’s arms after they’d made love. Actually, he liked lying in his arms any time, but after a good hard fuck felt especially good.

“Brian?”

“What?” There was the trace of a sigh in his voice. Brian wasn’t particularly talkative when he was drowsy and satiated.

“Will we be happy in San Francisco?”

Justin felt Brian tense slightly. But he replied without hesitation. “Of course. Why shouldn’t we be happy there?”

“I don’t know. Because we don’t know anyone there. Because it isn’t home.”

“It’ll be home when we make it home. When we find a place to live and move in. You can throw your shit all over the place, like you do here. I’ll hang up my Armani suits in the closet – and I’ll even be able to afford some new ones. We’ll order some take-out, crack open a bottle of champagne, and fuck in every room, ending with the shower. After that’s done, it’ll be home.”

Justin smiled. Brian liked to think of himself as a creature of infinite mystery, but he was so fucking predictable it wasn’t even funny!

“Did you look at any possible places?”

“A couple. But nothing suitable. They were either too small or too crummy. And they were all too expensive.”

“You have awfully high standards, Brian,” Justin said. “We might have to live somewhere... um, crummy, at least for a while.”

“No fucking way!” Brian asserted. “When I moved into the loft I made a promise to myself that I’d only leave it to move up, either to a better apartment or house, or to a better city. Well, we’re on our way to a better city and I won’t compromise on where we live. It might take a little longer, but it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“But what will we do in January?”

Brian shrugged. “The client offered a room in the hotel I’ll be promoting, but I said no thanks. Working with a client is bad enough, but living underneath him is impossible. We’d never get any privacy. Then Tony Conway offered his spare room, but I think I’d go nuts watching him and his boyfriend cooing at each other all the time!”

That was interesting news. Justin knew Brian and Tony had fucked a few times and he had wondered if they’d do it again while Brian was in San Francisco. Apparently the answer was no. “I didn’t know your new boss had a boyfriend. I thought it was the other two guys who were partners.”

“Dan and Jon. They still are. But it seems Tony has been sucked onto the Love Train since the last time I saw him.”

“What’s the guy like?”

“He’s okay. But the two of them are disgustingly breeder-like, at least from the limited interaction I had with them in the last few days. Marc is a corporate lawyer and all he could talk about was mergers while the smitten Tony hung on every word like he was some hot underwear model! It was puke-able.”

“Must be true love,” said Justin as he gently stroked Brian’s smooth chest.

“Must be,” Brian agreed. He closed his eyes. Justin’s hand felt good. Relaxing. “Poor bastards.”

“I was afraid you’d have to stay there and work. That you might miss my birthday party.”

Brian opened his eyes. “I said I’d be back in plenty of time. And here I am. Which reminds me...” He untangled himself from Justin’s arms and got out of bed. He stalked over to his suitcase, which was open on the floor, and rummaged around in it, finally retrieving a small box. Brian tossed it on the bed.

Justin saw that the box was wrapped in green paper with a shiny red ribbon. “Is this for me?”

“No,” Brian deadpanned. “It’s for the fucking mailman.”

Justin eagerly tore off the paper. It was a plain black box. But Justin hesitated. He was almost afraid to open it.

“Well?” said Brian. He stood with his hand on his hip, expectantly.

Justin held his breath and opened the box. Inside was a bracelet with intertwined links of silver and gold. It shimmered in the dim light the neons cast over the bed.

“Oh my God! It’s beautiful!”

Brian smirked as he slid back under the covers. “I knew you’d like it the minute I saw it in the window. I used to wear a bracelet all the time. Nothing fancy, but I liked the feel of it on my wrist.”

Justin knew from the elegant look of it that the bracelet was an expensive gift, but he didn’t dare ask Brian if they could afford it.

Justin leaned over and kissed his lover. “I love it. It’s perfect. I’m never going to take it off!”

“Here. Let me put it on you. It’s got a special catch.” Brian put it around Justin’s right wrist and then took out a tiny golden key from the box. “See? It locks. And I’ll keep the key.” He closed his long fingers around it for a moment before putting back into the box and setting it on the bedside table.

“Now you have me locked up tight,” said Justin. “But you already knew that. You do know that, don’t you, Brian? That you have me locked up good and tight?”

“With a accent on the tight.”

“No, really. I mean it. You know that, don’t you?”

“That you’re addicted to my cock?” Brian sniffed. “Obviously.”

Justin ran the tips of his fingers over the bracelet. “My Christmas present to you won’t be this great.”

Brian made a face. “You don’t owe me a present – ever. And that’s not a fucking Christmas present!”

“Birthday, then.”

“It’s not a birthday present, either!” Brian insisted. “It’s just something I saw and wanted to get you. Because I felt like it, not because I had to. The same reason we’re both here right now – because we want to be, not because we have to be.”

“But I believe in Christmas presents, Brian, even if you don’t.”

Brian leaned heavily on Justin, bringing his lips against his ear. “Then tie a big fucking red bow around your cock and put a tag on it. That’s all you need to do.”

“You really are crazy!” Justin laughed.

“Crazy like a fox. I’m not joking, twerp. That’s all the present I want – or need.”

“But you already have it,” said Justin. He took Brian’s hand and guided it to his cock, which was almost completely hard again. 

Brian’s fingers closed around Justin the same way they had enclosed the little key. Possessively. “You little shit,” he whispered. “You fucking little shit! You’re as hard as rock!”

“The better to fuck you with,” said Justin with growing excitement. Brian didn’t let him fuck him very often, but Justin knew that he would right now.

“Then do it. Fuck me. Fuck the shit out of me.”

“I will,” said Justin, reaching for the lube and a condom.

And Brian buried his face in the pillow as Justin delved deeply inside him. Touched him in places he was only rarely touched. And he didn’t mean physically. It was something more. Something Brian feared to put a name to.

But he knew the day was coming when he would have to.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cake!

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

“That sounds great, Lindsay!” said Justin. “I’ll put you down for the strawberry casata cake. Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. See you tomorrow!”

Justin closed his cell and made a note on his pad. Lindsay – casata cake.

“If you’re planning to eat all of those cakes yourself you’ll be bouncing off the walls from the sugar rush, not to mention the impact they’ll have on your ass. You won’t be able to fit through the loft door. I’ll have to rent a crane to hoist you up the side of the building and in through the window like a piano!”

Brian looked up from the computer with a quizzical expression. He’d been so quiet that Justin had almost forgotten he was there. Almost. Because Justin could never completely forget that Brian Kinney was in the same room.

Justin sauntered over to Brian’s desk, putting more than a little enticing spin in his hip movement. “What will you do when I get fat? Divorce me? Or learn to love my love handles?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Divorce? That implies marriage. And marriage is a four letter word in my dictionary!”

“You’re evading the subject.” Justin wiggled his way onto Brian lap.

“Jesus!” Brian groaned. “You already weigh a ton! And now you want to stuff yourself full of cake? You’re cruising on the edge of disaster, Blond Boy!”

“Still evading the issue,” Justin whispered. “If I have an extra piece of cake tomorrow are you going to punish me? And what will that punishment entail?”

“I’ll have you spit-shine the Vette with your tongue,” Brian replied. “Then it’ll be nice and clean for the new owner.”

Justin frowned. “Are you still planning to sell the Vette? Why? You have a new job!”

“Yes, but how the fuck am I going to get both the Vette and the Jeep to San Francisco?” Brian pointed out. “And then what’ll we do with them once we get out there? It’s a bitch of a place to keep a car, let alone two. We don’t even have a place to live yet!”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Justin peered at the computer screen. “I didn’t think you were looking at porn.”

“I only wish I were looking at hot guys with 10-inch dicks instead of studio apartments with half-bathrooms and no garages.” Brian rubbed his tired eyes. “This is the most fucking frustrating search! Every place has something majorly wrong with it. Either it’s too small or too expensive or too far away from the Castro or has a bathtub in the middle of the living room! It’s ridiculous!”

“What’s wrong with this place?” Justin squinted at the screen. “One bedroom, one bath. And there’s a garden on the terrace. The picture looks nice.”

“Scroll down to the rest,” said Brian. “Read about the landlords. Or landladies.”

“‘Epiphany and Thelma Moonflower-Shapiro looking for fellow travelers to share their humble abode on Spaceship Earth,’” Justin read aloud. “‘We are seeking kindred souls to journey with us. Animal companions welcome. Vegans preferred.’ Well, they do sound a little different.”

“A little different?” Brian made a face. “That’s all we fucking need! Old hippie dykes with a million cats poking their noses into our business 24/7! Ms. and Ms. Moonflower-Shapiro sound like a couple of refugees from ‘Tales of the City’!”

“That might be kind of fun,” Justin reasoned. “You said San Francisco was full of colorful characters.”

“Yeah,” Brian sniffed. “Colorful characters are okay when you see them on the street talking to their imaginary friends, but you don’t want them living in the apartment underneath you, with their names on your fucking lease!”

“I can see your point,” said Justin. “So what are we going to do?”

Brian sighed. “I’ll have to get after Tony Conway to find us something to sublet until we can get out there and look in person. Which means you are going to have to do most of the legwork.”

“Me?” Justin was surprised. Brian liked to take control of such things himself. 

“Yes you, twat. I’m going to be working overtime the first few months we’re there. I have to prove to Tony and his partners that they made the right decision in hiring me. That means you’re going to have to take up the slack with other shit, like house-hunting.”

“And finding a job,” Justin added.

“We need a place to live first,” said Brian. “Then we can worry about your career prospects. And speaking of prospects – what’s this?” He reached down and groped the front of Justin’s sweatpants.

Justin smiled. “I think something came up – just for you.”

They’d only been making out for about two minutes when Justin’s cell sounded. 

“Sorry,” said Justin, checking the display. “It’s Michael. I better take it.”

“Christ!” Brian huffed. “Mikey’s timing always has been lousy.”

Brian listened impatiently while Justin chatted with Michael about the devil’s food cake he was bringing to the party. Brian had seen Michael’s previous attempts at baking and knew that he wasn’t likely to be tempted by his best friend’s over-cooked, lopsided wonder. 

As Justin gabbed on, Brian finally got up from the desk and went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer before heading up to the bedroom.

The two days since he’d gotten back from San Francisco had been a bitch. He’d either been on the computer looking for a place to live or on the phone with Tony or with Stefan Radev, trying to do business long distance. The whole public relations game was something Brian still didn’t have a handle on. He knew he’d get it eventually, but he didn’t like being on a learning curve at his age. It made him feel off balance. 

And the Radev thing. That was awkward, too. Brian didn’t like being pursued, even from afar. He was used to being the pursuer. The one on top. That was the position of power. But Radev had all the power in this little competition. But he was the client and Brian had to play his hand carefully. Very carefully. His new job depended on it.

“So Michael is set for the chocolate cake,” said Justin, bouncing up the steps to the bedroom. “And Ben is making some kind of Japanese pastry made out of soybean paste. Michael says it’s pretty good.”

“Soybean paste?” Brian winced. “Poor Hunter! No wonder that kid is always over at Debbie and Carl’s, cadging a decent meal!” Yeah, just like I used to do, Brian thought. “So exactly how many cakes are there going to be at this party?”

“Let’s see...” Justin tallied in his head. “I’m making carrot cake, Lindsay the strawberry casata cake, Michael devil’s food, Ben that Japanese thing, Deb is bringing canolis, Emmett is making Coca Cola cake...”

“Coca Cola cake?” Brian sputtered. “What the fuck is that?”

Justin shrugged. “It’s some Southern thing. Em’s great-aunt taught him how to make it. And Daphne is making red velvet cake. I love that one!” He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it into the laundry basket. “It’s going to be great!”

“So is there going to be any food other than cake? Or are we going to be swimming in frosting and, apparently, caffeine?”

“No!” Justin dropped his sweatpants and kicked them aside before crawling into bed. “I’ve ordered pizza and wings from Angelo’s. And Debbie is also making lasagna. Lindsay will probably bring something, too, but she wasn’t sure what. And I’ve got bags of salad. So it won’t only be carbs and fat.”

“Bags of salad,” Brian mused. “Goody!”

“Shut up!” Justin smacked his lover’s arm. 

“So,” said Brian. “The idea is that you have an entire fucking cake for every person at the party?”

“That’s why it’s a cake party!” Justin exclaimed. “Everybody gets to try all the cakes and then at the end of the party they can take the leftovers home.” Justin raised his eyebrows as he looked at Brian. “I knew if I had a regular birthday party you’d make a stink about it, so this is a good alternative. And everyone brings a cake instead of a present.”

Brian made a choking noise. “You know they’re all going to bring you presents! They all know it’s your birthday, hence they’re going to bring gifts.”

“I don’t think so,” Justin countered. “I said just the cake.”

“Want to make a bet? Your tongue to spit-shine my ass instead of the Vette if I’m right.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“I’ll eat a piece of Ben’s tofu masterpiece and try not to throw up!” said Brian. “But I’m not wrong. I’m never wrong.”

“No,” whispered Justin, moving closer. “You’re never wrong.”

“So how about a piece of something other than cake?” Brian asked.

“It’s yours for the tasting,” Justin offered.

“This is the kind of dessert I prefer,” said Brian as he reached for Justin’s ass. “With or without frosting.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cake Party begins.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Debbie and Carl were the first to show up for Justin’s cake party. He’d told everyone to come at 6:00. 

Deb rang the buzzer at exactly 5:41.

“Christ!” Brian was wet from the shower, a towel hanging loosely around his hips, as he pushed open the loft door. “I knew you’d be the first to arrive for this little exercise in sugar-overload.”

Carl looked sheepish. “I told her we were too early, but she doesn’t listen to me. What can you do?”

“Shush, Carl!” Debbie admonished. Then she swept through the door, a large casserole dish in her hands. “Don’t apologize! I thought Sunshine could use a little help getting everything set up.”

“He and Daphne went over to pick up the pizza and wings,” said Brian. “They should be back in about 15 minutes.”

“Good!” Debbie exclaimed. “I’ll have everything under control in a jiffy. Put those canolis on the counter, Carl honey. And I’ll pop the lasanga in the oven to keep it warm. Here – take our wraps, baby.” She thrust her red, white, and blue fake fur coat into Brian’s arms. “And put on some clothes.”

“Hey!” Brian said, dumping the coat on the sofa. “Don’t steamroll the kid, Deb. This is his show, so don’t try to take it over.” 

Debbie put her hands on her hips defiantly. “Since when do I try to take things over? I just want to help!”

“Brian’s right,” Carl piped up. “This is Justin’s party.”

Debbie frowned. “You two act like I’m some kind of pushy know-it-all! I know it’s Sunshine’s party. I only want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Brian. “Help yourself to a beer, Carl. And as much as I know you’d like to get a good look at my dick, Deb, I’m going to go and put on my pants.”

“Big deal!” Debbie sniffed. “I’ve already seen it!”

“Lucky you!” Brian shot back.

Brian was pulling on a pair of black 501’s when Debbie stomped up the steps and into the bedroom.

“Jesus, Deb! You really do want to get a good look at my dick, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself! I want to know what you’re getting Sunshine for his birthday – and for Christmas, too. Because I know he’s planning on getting you something good.”

Brian took a deep breath and counted to 10. “I don’t do birthdays. Or Christmas. You know that better than anyone else.”

“I thought you’d say that!” she retorted. “Well, you better start doing birthdays. And Christmas. And anniversaries. And Valentine’s Day, too! Anything to make that kid happy, you do it! You hear me? Don’t fuck this up, Brian! I mean it!”

“Fuck what up?” Brian replied blandly. He opened a drawer and began looking for a sweater.

“Don’t act dumb!” Debbie said. “Although sometimes I think you are pretty dumb for a guy who thinks he’s so smart! Don’t fuck up you and Sunshine. Your relationship. And don’t give me any crap about not being in a relationship! Because whether you like it or not, you’re in one! And that kid deserves a real relationship with a real partner. So BE that partner!”

Brian pulled out a dark blue Marc Jacobs v-neck and a crimson Zac Posen turtleneck and laid them both on the bed, considering. “Thanks for the newsflash, Anderson Cooper. Can I get dressed now?”

But Debbie showed no sign of backing off. “So? Get dressed already. I’m just saying that kid is going through a lot of shit right now with his parents getting divorced. He needs some security in his life – and you’re that security, like it or not! So pamper him a little. Tell him how much you love him. And get him some nice presents!”

Brian glared at Debbie. Before he’d been annoyed but now he was getting pissed off. “Listen, Deb, Justin is not some 12 year old girl who cries into her pillow about Mommy and Daddy. And he’s not some fucking housewife who needs roses and a bunch of bullshit words in order to feel loved. He’s a man – and that’s how I treat him. I don’t need that sentimental crap and neither does he. So butt out! We’re doing fine without your interference.”

“You think so?” Debbie countered. “I’m only warning you, Brian. If you’re planning to take that kid across the country where he doesn’t know anyone and then go back to your old ways of fucking around and acting like you don’t care, think again!”

Brian pulled the crimson Zac Posen over his head. “Afraid I’m going to bweak widdle Sunshine’s heart?” he smirked.

“No,” said Debbie, her face serious. “I’m afraid you’re going to break your own heart. This kid is no pushover. If you treat him badly, he’ll leave you. And then where will you be? Alone and miserable and unable to admit it.”

“Such a sad refrain!” Brian heaved a fake sigh.

“Go ahead and joke about it,” said Debbie. “But I’m afraid this is your last chance!”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “My last chance? For what, Deb? For ‘True Love’?” 

“No,” Debbie replied. “Your last chance to be human. Your last chance before your heart closes up forever and you end up like your old man – or your mother. Too stubborn to reach out to another person. Too cold and hard to admit you love someone. You know what I’m talking about, Brian. You grew up with that and you know how it feels. Don’t become like them. Don’t let it happen because you’re afraid. Afraid to open up. Afraid to let yourself love someone. To love Justin.”

Brian stood still, biting his lip. He wanted to lash back at her. To say something cutting and perfect and devastating. He opened his mouth – but nothing came out. His throat suddenly felt like there was something caught there.

“The world is full of people who don’t give a damn, Brian,” Debbie continued. “People who only think of themselves. People who sneer at love and mock those who believe in it. That’s why the world can be a dark, cruel place. You’re too good to be one of those people. I used to lie awake nights, worrying about you. Wondering what would happen to you. Wondering how you would survive. But then Justin came along and I stopped worrying – at least a little. That’s why I don’t want you to get scared and push him away. Moving to San Francisco is a big step for both of you. Make it a real chance for the two of you to be partners. That’s what I don’t want you to mess up, honey. I only want you to be happy. That’s all.”

Brian stared at her. Then he turned away, unable to look her in the eye. “I... I don’t know if I can, Deb. I don’t know if I can change.”

Debbie stepped forward and put her arms around Brian, hugging him tightly. “You don’t have to change. You just have to be yourself. Your real self, not some fake image that you think you need to show to the world. Justin knows that real self or he wouldn’t be here with you. He’s not afraid of the real you. Now you have to learn not to be afraid of it either.”

The door of the loft banged open and Justin and Daphne burst through it, their arms full of steaming boxes of pizza and paper bags full of hot wings.

“Brian! We’ve got the food!” Justin cried, setting the boxes on the kitchen counter. “Hey, Carl! What are you doing here already?”

Debbie walked down the steps. “We got here a little bit early. Are you ready for your party?”

“I’m ready!” Justin laughed. “As ready as I’ll ever be!”

“Oh,” Debbie added, glancing back at Brian. “By the way, Sunshine – Happy Birthday!”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too much cake.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Brian had never seen so much cake before outside of a bakery. Strawberry casata cake sitting on the kitchen counter. Red velvet cake on the dinner table. Carrot cake on the computer desk. Devil’s food cake on the side shelf. Japanese fucking soybean paste cake on his Mies van der Rohe coffee table. 

And a plate of half-eaten Coca Cola cake in the middle of the bed.

“Justin!”

“What’s up?” Justin sped up the steps like a cartoon character. He was completely buzzed on sugar, fat, and carbs.

“That!” Brian pointed to the plate.

“Oh.” Justin scooped it up. “That was Gus’s. Sorry.”

“Listen!” Brian was almost shouting with frustration. The party was out of control and there was nothing he could do about it! “That kid is flying high enough already. The last thing he needs is a hunk of cake that’s pure sugar laced with fucking caffeine!”

Justin tilted his head at his lover. “Brian, calm down. It’s fine. Everything is fine! I’ll clean up the crumbs. Don’t worry about it. Sit down and have a piece of cake.”

Brian felt steam coming out of his ears. “I already told you – I don’t want any fucking cake!”

“Did you try a piece of my carrot cake?” Justin continued, completely ignoring Brian’s tirade. “I think it turned out really good!”

Brian closed his eyes and held his aching head. His fucking stomach was churning. While avoiding the cake orgy, he’d eaten way too much greasy pizza and spicy chicken wings, washing it all down with the dregs of his last bottle of Glenlivet single malt scotch. But he had to admit that the party, unlike a few others Brian had hosted in the loft, was a distinct success. Everyone was full of food and no fist fights had broken out. At least not yet.

“Later,” he said. “After everyone else leaves.”

“But there might not be any left by then,” Justin pouted. “Carl ate two big slices and Melanie said it was her favorite! I think she wants to take home the leftovers.”

Gloop gloop gloop. That was Brian’s stomach’s answer. “Then you can make another one this weekend. Just for the two of us.”

Justin smiled. “I’ll do that. See, Brian – I told you this party would be a lot of fun!”

“Yeah, fun fun fun,” Brian mumbled, following Justin out of the bedroom. “Like the fucking Beach Boys on crack!”

“Daddy!” Gus shrieked. He sailed across the room and attached himself to Brian’s leg. “Daddy! Cake! I ate cake! Lots and lots of cake!”

“No shit,” said Brian, picking his son up in his arms. “How about a little salad? Or a nice quiet hit of speed?”

“Nice going, Brian,” Melanie sneered. She was sitting on the sofa next to Jennifer Taylor, who was holding little J.R. on her lap. “You’re a wonderful role model for your son.”

“Jesus, Mel! Don’t get your fucking knickers in a twist,” said Brian. “Can’t I even make a joke in my own home?”

“Whatever,” Mel shrugged. “Make all the jokes you want.” For as long as you’re still here, she added to herself. After you’re gone you won’t have to explain to your son where you are and when – if ever – you’re coming back.

“Mom, would you like some more cake?” Justin hovered over his mother. “Did you try one of Debbie’s canolis?”

“No thank you, darling,” she replied. “I’m so full I’m ready to burst!”

“Did you have a piece of my carrot cake? I used Aunt June’s recipe.”

Jennifer smiled. She couldn’t believe that Justin was 23 years old. It seemed like only yesterday he was a tiny baby, all pink skin and gold fuzz, his blue eyes staring out at the world like he was the first one ever to look at it. Her beautiful son. And now he was a man.

Justin had only belatedly invited Jennifer to the party, but he never expected her to show up, an angel food bundt cake with lemon frosting in her hands. And with Molly, who was carrying an assortment of packages for Justin’s birthday. 

And those weren’t the only presents. Brian had been correct, as usual. Everyone brought the required cake, but they all brought gifts, too.

“Mom!” Molly ran over from where she and Emmett had been bonding over ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ on Brian’s huge flat-screen TV. “Isn’t it time to open Justin’s presents?”

“That’s a good idea,” Jennifer agreed. “It’s starting to get late and Molly has school tomorrow.”

“Then let’s get cracking,” said Debbie, plopping herself on the sofa next to Mel. “Set yourself down over here, Sunshine, and get to work!”

“You really shouldn’t have,” Justin said in embarrassment. He sat on the floor next to the coffee table, while Michael, Ben, and Carl piled it with brightly wrapped boxes. “I didn’t mean for everyone to get me something. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Sure it was!” Em insisted. “That’s what birthdays are for! Getting gifts!”

Ted patted Em’s hand fondly. “Spoken like the true little golddigger you are, honeybunny.”

“Thanks, Teddy-weddy!” Emmett cooed.

Brian glared at Ted and Emmett. When they started that baby talk shit he thought he’d puke. “Just get on with it, twerp.” He tossed Justin one of his patented I-told-you-so looks.

“Okay!” And Justin, his head still spinning from the cake-rush, began opening his presents.

To say he was overwhelmed by all the gifts was an understatement. Justin was used to making a good haul on his birthday and at Christmas. His parents where, after all, well-fixed WASPs who believed in feeding the economy by buying as much stuff as they could fit into the Lexus. After all, Taylor Electronics, the family business, thrived on conspicuous consumption.

But the past year, and especially the months since Brian had been out of work, had shown Justin a different way of life. Working hard at the Watermark and saving his tips, while watching Brian struggle to make the payments on the Jeep and his credit cards, made Justin appreciate what he had all the more. Not only the material things, like the Jeep or the loft, as great as they were, but the friends he’d made in the year since he’d met Brian. Michael and Ben. Em and Ted. Debbie and Carl. Lindsay and Mel. Even Gus and little J.R. Reconnecting with old friends like Daphne. And coming to a new understanding with his mother in the face of his parents’ divorce. Even Molly didn’t seem so annoying anymore. When he looked at her it amazed him that she was now a teenager – a 13 year old who thought she was 25.

“Oh my God!” Justin said over and over as he ripped the wrapping off each package. “Guys! This is too much!”

And Brian silently agreed. It was all too much. Fucking birthdays! Not that the twat didn’t deserve it, because he did. But Brian still felt uncomfortable with the entire concept. He knew it was stupid, but he did. 

However, it was interesting the way he could pretty well predict what each person would give Justin. Gifts always seemed more about the giver than the givee.

For instance, Michael got Justin a book about how to draw anime characters. That seemed to fit Justin’s interest in art and animation, but it was really about Michael’s own obsession with comic books. Likewise, Ben gave Justin a book on Eastern philosophy. Leave it to Zen Ben to make the serious statement! Hunter, on the other hand, got Justin a Radiohead CD, Emmett a DVD box set of Barbra Streisand films, Debbie and Carl a pair of ‘I Love Lucy’ salt and pepper shakers, Mel a gift card for Staples, Lindsay a vegetarian cookbook, and Ted a $50 savings bond. Jennifer gave Justin clothes – a boring, but warm-looking blue sweater from Hoffmann’s, underwear (boring white briefs), and socks (even more boring plain navy) – and Molly gave her brother a video game.

“Open mine last,” said Daphne, handing him her package.

“Oh, Daph!” Justin cried as he gingerly unwrapped it. It was a portrait, professionally mounted and framed. Brian leaned over to look more closely. It was of him. He’d never seen it before. It was his face in extreme close-up. It looked almost like a photograph, but was tinted with purple and gold. “I can’t believe it!”

Daphne smirked. “I told you it was good!” She then passed the picture around for everyone to see.

“When did you do that?” Brian asked Justin. 

“While you were in San Francisco. Remember those pictures I took last summer with the digital camera? I used the graphics program on your Mac and was playing around with it to see what I could come up with. That was one of the ones I finished. I printed it out on that heavy-stock paper and then hand-colored it. I was showing them all to Daphne and she must have put that one in her bag when I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s kind of a cheat to give you back your own work for your birthday,” Daphne said. “But I wanted you to have something to hang in your new place in San Francisco. To make you feel like a real artist. Which you ARE, by the way!”

“I don’t know what to say, Daph.” Justin felt his eyes welling up.

“Then don’t say anything,” she asserted. “Just be sure to invite me to your first big show in San Francisco!”

“I will!” Justin wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his fleece pullover. “You can count on it!” Then he hugged Daphne while he still had the opportunity. “I’m going to miss you so much!”

“Me, too!” And Daphne began to cry.

Brian turned away. There was one bottle of whiskey left on the drinks cart. Not Jack Daniels, but it would do the job. Anything to numb what he was feeling. 

Whatever that sharp, oppressive feeling in the pit of his stomach was.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Cake Party.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Gloop gloop gloop.

“Shut the fuck up!” Brian grumbled.

“What did you say?” Justin’s sleepy voice emerged from deep under the duvet.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

But a few minutes later it started again.

Gloop gloop gloop.

“Goddamn it,” Brian whispered, turning over. This time the sound was accompanied by a burning pain located slightly northwest of his navel.

Gloop gloop gloop.

A blond head poked out of the bedclothes. “Brian, is that your stomach making that noise?”

Brian rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.

“Motherfuckingsonofabitchcakewingspizzagoddamnittohellfuckingjesuschrist...”

“Brian? Are you all right in there?”

Justin heard the toilet flush. Then he heard it flush again. But Brian didn’t answer. Now he was really concerned. 

He got out of bed slowly. The loft was bitterly cold. It felt like a stiff west wind was blowing right through the bedroom. He grabbed an extra blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself.

Brian was leaning over the toilet, his face ashen. He turned and stared at Justin with blurry eyes.

“Fuckingbastardofasugarstuffedcakegreasyfuckingpizzastomachblastingchickenwings...”

“Did you take some of that antacid the doctor suggested?”

“I don’t need any fucking antacid!” Brian looked at himself in the mirror and winced. “I think what I need is another drink.”

“You’re supposed to take it easy on the liquor, avoid spicy food, eat slowly...”

“I don’t have a fucking ulcer!” Brian turned on the tap and rinsed his mouth. “It was all that cake!”

“You didn’t eat any cake,” Justin pointed out.

“I didn’t say I ate any!” Brian huffed. “It was the proximity of it. I absorbed the bad sugar vibes through my delicate skin. Now excuse me, I need to get back to sleep.” He pushed past Justin and lurched towards the bed, flopping down on it like a landed trout.

Justin sat down beside him on the bed and touched his hair. “You want me to make you some tea? That might help settle your stomach.”

“No,” Brian whispered. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’d rather lie here and wait for death.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Justin went to the kitchen and put on the kettle. After his bout with gastroenteritis had sent him to the hospital the month before, Brian’s doctor had warned him that he was cruising for an ulcer if he didn’t start eating more carefully, cutting back on his drinking, and reducing his stress level. Of course, being Brian, once he started feeling a little better, he’d done none of those things. But Justin heard his stomach rumbling in the middle of the night and watched him get up and toss down antacids as furtively as he had once openly downed the infamous Anita’s special party mix.

Justin selected a Celestial Seasonings Grandma’s Tummy Mint teabag, put it in Brian’s favorite over-sized mug, and poured boiling water over it, adding four heaping teaspoons of sugar. Then he got two white tablets from the stash under the sink and took them up to the bedroom.

Brian was under the covers, his hand resting on his belly. He gave Justin a killing look – but he took the mug. Then he chewed the two tablets and washed them down with the tea.

“If you ever tell anyone that I’m popping Di-Gel they’ll never find your body. I’m serious.”

Justin nodded. “I know. Lesbianic tea. Di-Gel. Talk. Killed. I get it.” He slid back under the duvet. “How do you feel? Really?”

“Like dog shit.” He sipped some more tea. “Which is what this tastes like.”

“More sugar?” It always amused Justin that Brian railed against the sweetness of his innocent carrot cake, while piling enough sugar into his tea and coffee to throw a normal person into diabetic shock.

“No,” said Brian. “This’ll do.”

“Better?”

Brian shook his head. “My fucking stomach. What am I going to do about this?”

“I shouldn’t have gotten all that pizza,” Justin apologized. “And those wings were too spicy.”

“Don’t be a twat! It was a party! You got party food. It’s my own fucking problem if I ate it.” Brian drained the mug and set it aside. “Why do I do these things to myself?”

“To prove that you can?” Justin offered.

“That was a rhetorical question,” Brian sniffed.

“I know,” said Justin. “But your rhetorical questions usually require some kind of response. You know you don’t need to prove anything to anyone, Brian. Not anymore.”

“Except to myself,” he replied. “That’s the worst part of it. I’m fucking killing myself to prove that I can’t kill myself. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but now... it’s catching up with me. That’s what gets me.”

“Then don’t do it,” Justin said simply. “Give yourself a break. You’re the only one judging you.”

“I wish!”

“No!” Justin took his lover’s hand. “It’s true. Don’t be so hard on yourself. No one is going to think you’re a pussy if you watch out for yourself a little. After all, you watch out for me. You watch out for Michael. And Lindsay. And Gus, too. Does that make you a pussy? No, it makes you a hero.”

Brian smiled slightly. “Now you sound like Michael with his comic books. Believe me, I’m no fucking superhero!”

“Maybe not,” said Justin. “But then maybe you are, only you don’t know it yet. Because you’re incognito.” 

“Yeah, because I don’t know myself. But you do, I suppose. I get it. Don’t psychoanalyze me, twerp. Others have tried – and failed! I even had an old trick who tried it and he was an actual psychiatrist.”

“And?”

“He told me that in spite of all my addictions and general fucked-up-ness, I was surprisingly functional.”

Justin snorted. “I could have told you that and I don’t have a Ph.D.!” He paused and smiled slyly. “Except maybe in Kinney Studies.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “You need to finish the dissertation in that one before I can award you the degree!” Then he coughed – and burped loudly. “Shit!”

“Feel better?” said Justin, stifling a laugh.

“Yes, actually, I do.” Brian took a deep breath. The heavy, burning sensation in the pit of his stomach was receding. “I think that stuff might actually be helping.”

“Good.” Justin curled up next to Brian.

“Jesus, your feet are cold!”

“That’s from running around the loft barefoot in December. This place is like an icebox.”

“Why don’t you put on those socks your mommy gave you? They’re hideous, but at least they’ll keep your feet warm.”

“I think I’d rather snuggle up to you,” Justin sighed in contentment. “You’re nice and toasty.”

“Snuggle?” Brian sneered. “What is this? A fucking fabric softener commercial?”

“Don’t fight it,” Justin yawned. “Or I won’t get you any more tea and Di-Gel.”

Brian settled back on the pillow and shut his eyes. He did feel better. And Justin’s feet against his legs didn’t seem quite as cold. “Okay. But I don’t snuggle. Ever.” 

He paused, listening. Justin’s breathing deepened into a steady rhythm. Then a gentle snoring.

He put his arm around the sleeping figure.

“And if I DO snuggle,” he whispered. “I’ll never admit it. Never in a million fucking years! Understand?”

Brian took Justin’s silence as assent. 

It was good when they both agreed that he was right.

“Oh,” he added. “Happy birthday, Justin.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas shopping.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Justin was surprised – no, shocked – when Brian agreed to go Christmas shopping with him on the Saturday after the cake party.

“What the hell?” said Brian, throwing down his pen in disgust when Justin suggested it. He was sick of sitting at the computer. Sick of staring at sites for apartments in San Francisco he either couldn’t afford or wouldn’t be caught dead in. Sick of trying to do business with Stefan Radev long distance. And sick of watching Justin buzz around the loft, humming happily as he did laundry or worked on his art portfolio. It was a matter of either telling him to shut the fuck up – or getting him out of the house.

And the more he thought about telling Justin to take a powder for a few hours, the more he realized that he needed to get out, too. Maybe a little shopping would do them both good.

Unfortunately, Brian forgot that Christmas shopping meant Christmas was in full swing and nowhere was it in fuller swing than at the mall.

The first clue was finding a parking spot.

“Thank God we came in the Jeep instead of the Vette, right, Brian?” Justin turned down yet another aisle, looking for an empty space.

“No problem,” Brian replied. “I’d simply have turned around and headed for the hills! Because there’s no fucking way I’d park my 1971 Corvette Stringray in this fender-bender paradise.” 

“There’s one!” Justin saw an SUV pulling out and then eased the Jeep in. “This isn’t too far from the Hoffmann’s entrance.”

“Dandy,” said Brian as he climbed out of the passenger seat. “Tell me again why I agreed to this little excursion?”

“Because even though you hate Christmas and hate Christmas presents, we have a list of people we have to buy them for.” Justin jumped out of the Jeep and locked the door. “Starting with Gus.”

“Well,” said Brian. “I don’t mind buying stuff for him.”

Justin took out a list that looked suspiciously long. “And J.R., too. We can’t forget her. And Lindsay and Mel. Michael and Ben. Em and Ted. Debbie and Carl...”

“Jesus!” Brian swore. “All these fucking couples!”

Justin ignored him and focused on the Christmas list. “My mom and Molly. And I need to get something really nice for Daphne, especially after the great birthday present she gave me.”

“Draw a picture of my dick and have it framed,” Brian suggested. “What straight girl wouldn’t want that?”

Justin laughed. “That would go over great when she opened it on Christmas morning! Daph’s grandmother would probably have a heart attack!”

“You never know,” Brian shrugged. “The old lady might want one for herself.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that under consideration.”

Once they got into the mall, Brian realized exactly how much of a mistake he’d made in agreeing to the shopping trip. Not only was the place jammed with shoppers, mainly women and children, on a Saturday afternoon, but every square inch of the place was decorated with what Brian sourly referred to as ‘Christmas horseshit’ – over-laden trees and wreaths, garish ribbons and bows, plastic icicles, strings of twinkling lights, and, in the center of it all, Santa sitting on his golden throne, surrounded by piles of fake snow and an army of elves to direct the traffic jam of parents and children waiting to get their pictures taken with the Jolly Fat Man.

“Hey,” said Brian, pointing to a short guy in green who was lifting a toddler onto Santa’s lap. “That elf looks familiar. I think he worked at the Big Q a few years ago.”

Justin looked at Brian strangely. “Since when do you know an elf?”

“It’s a long story,” Brian brushed off the question as he dragged Justin away from Santaland. “Let’s find something for Gus.”

But the toy store was a mob scene, with hordes of mothers and kids swarming the place like locusts. And when Brian and Justin finally got inside they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of toys.

“Where the fuck do you begin?” said Brian, feeling dazed. He realized that he had no idea what Gus wanted for Christmas. No idea of his favorite games or what TV shows he watched or what he liked to do. He didn’t know any of the simple things a father should know – and soon he’d be gone and never have the chance to know them.

“Don’t worry,” said Justin. “Lindsay gave me some ideas. She wants educational games suitable for a five year old. Nothing violent or sexist. And nothing too scary.” Justin gestured to a row of action figures and monsters. “Nothing like that.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brian squinted at the display of monsters. They reminded him of some of the stuff Mikey used to collect – and still had in his store. “These are cool. Look? This one is holding the bloody head of another monster. It’s got ‘ripping action arms’!”

“I don’t think so, Brian!” Justin made a face. “Lindsay said nothing violent or sexist or scary, remember? Those look like all three.”

“If I was five I’d want that monster,” Brian affirmed. “And this looks like the creature from ‘Alien.’ And here’s Ripley. She’s about to kick some alien ass. How can you get any less sexist than Sigourney Weaver with a fucking shaved head? The dykes love her! I’m getting these for Gus.”

“Brian! Wait a minute!” Justin tried to guide his lover down another aisle, towards the educational games. “I was thinking of Candyland. Or Parcheesi.”

“Fuck Candyland!” Brian declared in a loud voice. A number of mothers turned around and glared at him. “And fuck Parcheesi, too! You want Gus to grow up to be a goddamn dyke, for Christ sake? I don’t mind him being a fag, but I don’t want him to be a wimp!”

Brian grabbed the Ripley and a selection of monsters from the shelf and pushed his way through the crowd to get in line to pay.

Justin didn’t know whether to laugh in delight or cry out in frustration. Brian, as usual, had completely derailed his plans for Gus’s gift. 

But he had to smile watching Brian stand in the line surrounded by all the mothers, his head held high, his tall, leather-jacketed form towering over the crowd like a beautiful queer god.

Justin’s eye was caught by a black-clad, masked action figure, his hands raised to fight off all of the monsters threatening his world. He took the package from the shelf and held it up.

“Brian!” he called. “Here’s another one! I think Gus will love it!”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping Mode!

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Once Brian was in full shopping mode, Justin found is difficult to keep up with him. He powered from store to store, department to department, barking at clerks and demanding to see different styles, different colors, different sizes, different everything until he was satisfied that the gift was perfect. And there was no hesitation, as there had been for so long, when he whipped out his Platinum MasterCard and handed it over.

“Are you sure?” Justin asked. He guiltily rubbed the bracelet Brian had brought back for him from San Francisco, knowing it was an expensive gift. So who was he to begrudge a bottle of Chanel Number 5 to Debbie? Or a Coach bag to Melanie? Or a pair of vintage distressed jeans for Hunter? And that was only the beginning. Justin began to wish he’d brought a wagon to tote away the haul.

“Brian?” Justin ventured. “Could we stop for a while? I’m starving!”

“Huh?” said Brian. His attention was focused on deciding between two bright red Donna Karan blouses for Lindsay. To Justin they looked identical. “What?”

“I said I’m starving!” Justin exclaimed in frustration. “Can we stop for a few minutes and get something to eat?”

Brian frowned. His concentration had been broken and he tossed both blouses aside as the salesgirl scrambled to pick them up. “Eat where? There’s no place to eat in this fucking consumer hell hole.”

Justin rubbed his arms, which were aching from carrying the heavy shopping bags. “There are plenty of places! There must be at least fifteen restaurants in the food court alone!”

“Restaurants?” Brian’s nose twitched in distaste. “You call a counter facing a bunch of plastic chairs riveted to the floor a restaurant?”

“I’m starving!” Justin insisted. “Please?”

“All right,” Brian acquiesced. “You lead the way.”

They wound their way through the press of people until they reached the food court. Luckily, it was almost 3:00, the lull between the lunch surge and the dinner surge, so they found a table under a plastic tree and settled in. 

Brian scanned the possibilities. Chinese. Greek. Japanese. Chinese. Wendy’s. Pizza. Chinese. Arby’s. Pizza. Chinese. Cajun. Chick-fil-A. Arthur Treacher. Taco Bell. Pizza. Chinese. Then he turned to Justin and said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding!”

“I’m getting the Cajun,” said Justin. “You want something there?”

Brian slid into a molded chair. He desperately wanted to light a cigarette, but knew that if he did the mall cops would come down on him like the Furies. “I’ll wait with the stuff and think about it.”

Christmas shopping, thought Brian. It’s ridiculous. All these people have the entire year to buy stuff and here they are, jamming the stores and trying to do it all in three fucking weeks! But he had to admit that he was getting a rush watching the shopping bags fill up. Elbowing people out of his way. Picking out the perfect gift for each person. And knowing that when the bills came, he had a job that would actually pay for them.

When they got back to the loft he had to call Radev. They needed to talk about the upcoming Christmas and New Year’s events.

And he’d have to talk to Justin, too. He’d been putting that off, but he couldn’t put it off much longer.

“Here.” Justin set a tray down in front of Brian and then sat down across from him with his own tray.

“What the fuck is this?” Brian sniffed. 

“Bourbon chicken, greens, and red beans and rice for you,” Justin replied. “Spicy Cajun chicken, fried potatoes, and Jambalaya for me. And two large Cokes.” Justin stuck a straw into his Coke and began sucking on it.

“You don’t expect me to eat this?” Brian gazed disdainfully at the heaping styrofoam plate.

“No!” Justin gave his lover a grin. “You’re supposed to stare at it and complain about it – and THEN you’re supposed to eat it!”

“Do you have any idea what this shit will do to my stomach?” Brian inquired.

“You mean more to your stomach than the Jim Beam and kung pao shrimp you ate for dinner last night?” Justin countered.

“Good point,” Brian conceded. He picked up a plastic fork and poked at the chicken. He scooped up some red beans and rice with it and tasted it. Then he shrugged. “It won’t kill me. Not yet, at least.”

Justin smiled smugly, convinced he’d won that round. “So, tomorrow Daphne and Emmett and I are going out to get the tree. I know Em will want a huge monster, but I think a medium-sized tree will look the best. And since we don’t have any ornaments yet, it’ll be easier to decorate a smaller tree. I thought I’d use those strings of white lights you have in the storage space to hang from the ceiling and buy a couple of regular strings for the tree. But I’m not sure about tinsel. What do you think, Brian?”

Brian stared back, his face impassive. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said, taking another bite of rice.

Justin frowned. “You mean you’re actually letting me decide?”

“No,” said Brian. “Because there’s nothing to decide. No tree. No lights. No fucking stockings hung by the chimney with care. No wreaths. No inflatable Santas wearing furry jockstraps. Nada. Nyet. Nix. And that’s the end of the discussion.”

“Come on, Brian,” Justin coaxed. “Don’t be like that.”

“Listen, twat,” said Brian. “Christmas is bullshit. It’s all a crock that people are fed because it sells products. I know because I was the guy inventing the campaigns to sell those products. The trees and the Christmas carols and the hype – it’s all about selling shit. Peace on Earth, good will towards men? Yeah? For five seconds, then everyone goes back to being the same rotten people they are every other day of the year. So count me out. And I’m serious about that.”

Justin studied Brian’s face. It was stony, but something else was going on behind those dark green and gold eyes. After all, he’d just spent the last few hours buying presents for that same bullshit holiday.

“A small tree,” Justin bargained. “And a couple strings of lights. That’s all. Okay?”

“No,” Brian said firmly. “Not even a fucking twig and one red light bulb!” He pushed the styrofoam plate away. “Finish up and let’s get moving. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this fucking mall!”

Justin ate the rest of his spicy chicken and Jambalaya and then followed Brian through the crowd, the shopping list clenched in his hand.

This isn’t over, he vowed to himself. It’s Christmas. I’ll make Brian see! He’ll come around. I know he will!

Fucking Christmas, Brian thought. Fuck my mother! And fuck my old man, too. They ruin everything and then I have to live with the consequences. He glanced at Justin, walking next to him, his face pensive. He’ll fucking hate me now. I’m the Scrooge who won’t let him have his goddamn tree!

But Justin reached out and took Brian’s hand. Squeezed it. They never held hands unless they knew it was safe. And almost nowhere was completely safe these days, not even Liberty Avenue. But Justin didn’t let go.

Brian squeezed back. That was all he could do. All either of them could do. But it was enough for now.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-shopping talk.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

By the time Brian was satisfied with his purchases they’d been at the mall for over five hours and Justin was ready to drop. In his high school days he and Daphne had been dedicated mallrats, but he’d never before endured a marathon session with an obsessive shopper like Brian.

It had snowed quite heavily since they’d entered the mall and now it was also evening, giving Justin the illusion that they’d been inside for days and had emerged into another, darker season.

“You get the Jeep heated up,” said Brian, stowing his bags on the backseat. “While I brush off the snow.”

Justin turned on the heater and the defroster and watched as Brian made his way around the Jeep, methodically removing the wet snow with the brush. It was such a mundane action, but Justin loved observing his lover doing such normal, simple things.

I guess I’m really in love, Justin thought. That’s how you know. Every stupid little thing he does seems special to me. Even when he’s being a jerk, like about the Christmas tree, I still can’t stop staring at him. Can’t stop loving him. But...

Justin closed his eyes. He didn’t want to speculate about what Brian thought. He hated that gotcha game of ‘Does he love me as much as I love him?’ But sometimes he couldn’t stop himself. Brian was so reticent about his emotions. And he gave off the most confusing mixed signals. He could be sweet and caring one minute and a raging asshole the next, often with no transition – and no clue as to what had triggered the reversal. Consequently, Justin constantly felt off balance.

“I think I’m ready for some real food now,” said Brian as he got back into the Jeep. “What about Angelo’s? I could use some of that white pizza to chase away the taste of that pseudo-Cajun junk you forced me to eat.”

“No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Justin asserted.

“You’d be surprised,” Brian replied. “You should have heard Lindsay trying to convince me to donate my prime spunk so she could have Gus. Not to mention donating to Melanie, too.”

Justin frowned. “Melanie? But Michael is J.R.’s father!”

“I know.” Brian’s face darkened. “She fucking rejected me and picked Michael instead. But it’s just as well. My sperm and Mel’s twat wouldn’t have been a very good match.”

Justin chewed on that information for a moment. Although Brian didn’t like Melanie, Justin could tell that her rejection still rankled.

“So,” Brian continued. “Are we going to go, or are we going to sit here with the motor running until we die from carbon monoxide poisoning?

Justin gripped the steering wheel, trying to decide what to say. But there was no time like the present. “Brian, why won’t you let me have a tree?”

Brian made a puffing sound. “I thought that discussion was over.”

“No,” Justin insisted. “It hasn’t even begun yet! Seriously – I want to know. What is it about Christmas? Tell me.”

Brian curled his lip. “I LOVE Christmas! There! Satisfied? Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!”

Justin burst out laughing. “Brian, you’re the only person I know who can make ‘Merry Christmas’ sound like ‘fuck you’!”

“You mean there’s a difference?” Brian crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Can we go now?”

Justin’s expression turned somber. “You trust Michael. And Lindsay, too. So why won’t you trust me? You know everything about my life, but I feel shut out of yours. Your past... there’s so much I don’t know.”

“And you don’t need to know it,” Brian replied. “It’s fucked up. Take my word for it.”

“But I want to understand,” Justin prodded. “Christmas is important to me. And one day, when Gus is older, he’ll want to know why you don’t have a Christmas tree. If I don’t understand, then how can he understand?”

“It’s none of his business.” Brian’s voice was muted. “When I see him in the future – whenever that may be – he’ll just have to deal with it. If Sonny Boy thinks his old man is a nutcase, then so be it. And if you think I’m a nutcase... that’s your problem.”

“I don’t think you’re a nutcase, Brian!” Justin cried in frustration. “I think you’re afraid. But I don’t know what it is you’re afraid of. And I’d like to know, since I’m planning to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Brian snorted. “The rest of your life is a long fucking time, Sunshine! I’d re-think if I were you.”

They sat in silence. The snow started coming down again.

“I’m waiting,” said Justin. “I’m not going anywhere – and neither are you.”

Brian pulled off his glove and rubbed his eyes. “Christ! You won’t give up, will you?”

“No,” Justin said firmly.

“All right,” Brian sighed. “You asked. I’ll make it short and sweet. I was nine years old when I found out that Christmas was bullshit. My old man was already a hopeless drunk who would take a swing at anything that moved after he’d had a few. And my mother was well on her way to becoming a fucking religious freak. But like any kid, all I’d been thinking about for weeks was Christmas. Making my list. Writing my fucking letter to fucking Santa Claus. Trying to be good. The whole nine yards. I remember that I wanted a soccer ball – I’d just started playing. And I wanted some records. Boston – that group was popular then. And the Who’s ‘Who Are You?’ I had a long list of my favorites. I listened to the radio constantly in my room. It was a good place to hide.”

“Hide from your dad?” Justin asked.

“From everything. And everyone. I knew there was something different about me, but I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t understand why I felt I didn’t belong anywhere, but the feeling was overwhelming. So I escaped the only way I knew how – into myself.”

Justin saw Brian blink and he almost told him that he didn’t need to say anymore. But then Brian continued.

“Christmas day came. We had a huge tree. The old man was starting to make good money. He had a good job and he was a big shot in the union, so there were a lot of presents under that tree. I’d never been so excited. I ripped the packages open. And I got everything on my list. The soccer ball. The albums. Everything. I was so fucking happy. Of course, Pop was already half in the bag even though it wasn’t even noon. And my mother kept watching him, her face like a piece of rock. She was still beautiful back then. That much I remember. Beautiful and as cold as ice. As cold as this snow.” Brian gestured to the white coming down all around the Jeep. “And that’s when she showed me what it was really all about. That’s when she fucking killed Christmas forever.”

Justin took a deep breath. “What did she do?”

“She stood up and announced that my sister and I were going to ‘donate’ all our gifts – except the clothes, of course, we needed those for school – to her church. That’s what the Baby Jesus would want us to do and that’s what we were going to do! Then she took out a big garbage bag and started stuffing all our presents into it. My sister went nuts! She started screaming that she wouldn’t do it! She was four years older than me and a lot bigger, so she fought back. But it didn’t do any good. My mother shook her off and put the records and the soccer ball and all my sister’s stuff into the bag. I ran to my father and begged him to make her stop. But he just said, ‘That’s the way it goes, Sonny Boy. Better to learn that lesson now. Never expect anything, because you’ll just get fucked over!’ And then they had a big fight because he’d said ‘fuck’ in the house. My sister went upstairs, got some clothes, went to her girlfriend’s house, and wouldn’t come home for two weeks, but there was nowhere for me to go. I had no real friends. No one to turn to. Yeah, the old man was right – I was fucked over. That’s what I learned from Christmas.”

Justin was appalled. He knew Brian’s family was screwed up, but this was over the line! He couldn’t even imagine anyone doing that to a nine year old kid! He’d felt sorry for Brian’s mother on Thanksgiving, thinking she was a pitiful drunk. But now he thought she was evil. Or insane. And Brian’s father – Justin knew he used to hit Brian and that Brian had run away more than once to get away from him – wasn’t any better. Jack and Joan Kinney obviously hated each other and that hatred had twisted their children in ways that were still recoiling on them. Justin wanted so badly to fix his lover, but he didn’t even know where to begin.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing he could of to say.

“Sorry is bullshit,” Brian said dismissively. “Can we go now? I want that white pizza.”

“Okay.” Justin put the Jeep into gear and backed out of the parking space. “I’m starving again, too.”

“Justin Taylor, the walking stomach!” Brian snarked. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

And they drove into the swirling snow.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas cards.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

After hearing Brian’s horror story about Christmas Past, Justin decided not to press the issue of the Christmas tree.

He knew that the more he outwardly pushed Brian, the more his lover would dig in his heels and refuse to budge. Justin didn’t want to turn the loft into a battleground, or their relationship into a constant struggle, so he retreated for the time being. 

But Justin hadn’t given up the idea of the Christmas decorations, or of making Brian see the value of the holiday, but he knew that he needed to take a different tactic. He’d make Brian see what the season had to offer. Make things cheerful. Make Brian happy. And if he was happy, then he’d be more likely to give, at least a little. Maybe he’d let Justin put up the white party lights. Put out some pine-scented candles. Maybe even hang their Christmas cards on a length velvet ribbon in the living room. Baby steps. That was the way to do it with Brian Kinney. And by next year, Justin was certain, they’d have a tree. It might be a small one, but even that would be a victory. And Justin wouldn’t settle for anything less than a victory. Eventually!

A few days after the excursion to the mall, Justin brought home a box of Christmas cards. It was a small box, only 12 cards, and the scene portrayed wasn’t overtly Christmasy – a classy black and white photograph of some snow-covered birch trees – so Justin thought it was perfect.

That evening, while Brian sat at the computer and messaged back and forth with Tony Conway, Justin worked on one of the drawings for his Life Studio portfolio. It was due at the end of week. And after that the semester was over. Justin felt a pang. He’d enjoyed taking that studio more than any of the classes he’d taken in four years at Dartmouth. Sometimes he picked up the catalog and looked at the class offerings for the spring semester at Carnegie Mellon. There were so many classes he wanted to take. Painting. Graphics. Multi-media. Animation. So many choices! So many possibilities!

He put the drawing aside.

Brian was frowning and tapping away at his keyboard. He’d been working every day, spending hours on the computer and phone, working out details for the series of holiday events to be held at the Maxim in San Francisco. Justin could tell he was frustrated by trying to work from so far away. Occasionally they took a break, going out to Babylon for a couple of hours to dance and toss back a few shots. Or they met the boys at Woody’s for Happy Hour. But Brian always seemed preoccupied, like his mind was a thousand miles away. In San Francisco, specifically.

“I don’t want to fuck this up,” he told Justin as they lay in bed one night. “This feels like my last chance. I have to do it right.”

Justin shook his head. “This is far from your last chance, Brian! That whole thing with Gardner Vance was just a slight hitch in your otherwise glorious career. Once you get back on track, you’ll be invincible, as always!”

“You’re a charming little liar,” Brian sighed. But he pulled Justin closer. “What did I ever do without you?”

Justin laughed. “You fucked and drank and snorted and got yourself into trouble. The same as you do now!”

“No,” said Brian. “Not the same as now. Because back then, when I finally finished fucking and drinking and snorting and getting into trouble, I came home and I was alone. That’s the difference.”

And Justin had hugged his lover tightly, thinking of the cold Christmas Eve when they met. Thinking how strong and haughty and arrogant Brian appeared to others. And how vulnerable he often was in the dark of night, when the demons that plagued him could no longer be fended off.

Justin thought about that again as he took out the Christmas cards and began quietly addressing the envelopes. What he really wanted to do was create his own cards. Take a cool photograph and work with it on the computer. Or make a line drawing with ink, starkly black and white, of a winter scene. Or maybe a watercolor. He’d use that as their own personalized Christmas card. A Justin Taylor original. Even Brian wouldn’t balk at that. He’d be proud of the work Justin put into it. He was always proud of Justin’s work. He’d even heard Brian bragging one evening when they were all drinking at Babylon – he thought Justin was still in the men’s room – telling Michael that the lad was a genius and if he were running his own agency he’d hire him in a heartbeat. “Except he’d be running the place before I knew it!” he’d added.

“Yeah, sure!” Michael snarked. “That twink running your business!”

“We could run it together,” Brian tossed off. Then he dropped the subject.

But Justin kept thinking about what Brian had said.

It could happen. It could work. Brian could use his vast expertise in advertising, while Justin could bring his artistic sensibility. Together they would be amazing! And they wouldn’t have to leave Pittsburgh and go to a strange city. Because as much as Justin had dreamed of San Francisco, that Gay Mecca by the Bay, he didn’t really want to leave his hometown behind. And all their friends, especially Michael and Ben. Em and Ted. Deb and Carl. His mom and Molly. Daphne. Even bratty Hunter. They might struggle for a while with a new agency, but they’d been struggling ever since Brian’s suspension back in August. If they worked together it would be all right. Better than all right! They’d be a massive success!

And they’d be partners. In every way.

That gave Justin a feeling in his stomach like he was at the top of a roller coaster, ready to plunge over the highest hill. Excited. Fearful. Slightly sick. Wonderful.

When he saw Brian stop and stretch at the computer, Justin seized the opportunity. He carried the cards over to the desk and set them down.

“Brian, could you take a minute and sign these? Please?”

Brian stared at them. He didn’t even ask what they were for, because it was obvious. 

Justin held his breath. This was the moment when, if Brian was going to kick up a stink, he would do it. Instead, he picked up the pen and began signing his name to each one, right under the place where Justin had already signed his own.

Justin and Brian. Justin and Brian. Justin and Brian. Until all twelve had been signed.

“There,” Brian said, putting down the pen. “Happy now?”

“Yes,” Justin replied truthfully. “It’s only a little thing, Brian. But it means a lot. Thank you.”

“It’s less than a little thing,” Brian said dismissively. “It’s nothing. A fucking card. People look at them and then throw them away.”

“I don’t,” said Justin. “I keep them. And I look at them. And I remember all the people I know and love.”

“You don’t need a fucking card for that!” Brian sniffed.

“I know.” Justin scooped up the cards. “It’s a gesture. That’s all it is. But it makes people happy. It’s Christmas.”

Brian sighed. “Fucking Christmas.”

Justin smiled. “Yes. Fucking Christmas.”

“Listen, Justin...” Brian began. But then he stopped. He stood up and walked away from the computer desk.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Brian started up towards the bedroom.

“Brian? What?” 

He paused on the top step. “It’s nothing. We’ll talk about it later.” Brian turned and offered his hand. “Now get the fuck up here! My cock needs some attention.”

“So does mine!” Justin countered.

“Fair enough.”

Justin came up and took his hand. “Partners, right?”

Brian nodded. “Partners. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Justin looked into his eyes. “It means whatever we say it means. Whatever we want it to mean.”

“Whatever,” Brian repeated. “But right now this partner needs to get laid!”

As they undressed Brian thought about what Justin had said. Partners. I guess that’s what they were. But it was only words.

Fucking words.

Like the words he’d have to say to tell Justin that he wouldn’t be there for Christmas. That Tony Conway and Stefan Radev had insisted he be in San Francisco for the Christmas and New Year’s events. They actually wanted him there right now, but he’d been working his tail off from the Pitts so he wouldn’t have to leave until right before Christmas.

But he couldn’t put off the inevitable.

And what would Justin say about their fucking partnership then?

He closed his eyes as Justin took his cock into his mouth. Warm. Comforting. That’s all he’d think about. Tonight. Right now. Fuck the future. Fuck anything that wasn’t in that bed!

He opened his eyes and looked down. Touched Justin’s golden head with his long fingers and his stomach turned over.

In an instant. It could all be gone.

In an instant.

But it was here now.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving, Part One.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

The next day Justin mailed out his Christmas cards. And when cards came to the loft from Debbie and Carl, from Lindsay and Melanie, from Michael, Ben, and Hunter, from Daphne, from his friend Kathy from the drawing studio, and even one from his mother and Molly – with a short note by Jennifer thanking him for his beautiful card and sending her love – Justin hung them from a strand of red satin ribbon over the kitchen counter where he and Brian ate breakfast every morning.

Brian, being Brian, never mentioned the cards, although one morning Justin caught him looking to see who had signed them.

He does give a shit, Justin thought. But he doesn’t want anyone to know it. So Justin never said anything about the cards, but simply added them to the ribbon as they arrived.

He also put out some red and green candles and lit them in the evening, sending the fragrance of Christmas through the loft. Brian never mentioned that, either. But he also didn’t blow the candles out or toss them in the trash. So Justin felt he was making progress.

Baby steps. That was the way to go with Brian Kinney.

And as Christmas drew closer, Justin began to get excited. Not only was it his favorite holiday, it was also their anniversary. One year since they had met on Christmas Eve outside of Babylon.

Justin touched the bracelet Brian had brought back for him from San Francisco. This was Brian’s way of acknowledging their relationship, even though he’d never admit it. You had to learn how to read Brian. You had to figure out why he did things and what they meant, because it wasn’t always clear. Brian rarely said things outright unless he was reaming you out for something. When it came to talking about feelings or about their relationship, Justin often felt like one of those animal ‘whisperers’ who claimed to be able to understand what horses or dogs or tigers were thinking. You had to listen for the unspoken. Look for the signals. And then you had to interpret them. Sometimes it was beyond frustrating. But in the end it was worth it, Justin thought as he adjusted his bracelet. Because Brian was worth it.

He finished wrapping the last of his gifts and, since there was no Christmas tree, he placed them in a small pile against the wall under the flat-screen television in the living room. Maybe he’d find a DVD of a Christmas tree and turn it on while they opened their presents. Or they could tune in to one of those channels that played a roaring fireplace all Christmas Eve. Or they could just play some porn from Brian’s extensive collection.

He was especially happy with his present for Brian. He wanted it to be extra special, especially after Brian gave him the bracelet. It had taken him a while before he was satisfied with his choice, but now he knew it was the perfect thing. It was the final thing he wrapped and placed with the others.

There. Everything is ready. Christmas Eve at Deb’s to open some presents there, then back here for our private celebration. And back to Deb’s on Christmas day for dinner with the whole gang. Perfect.

And after Christmas – what?

That was the question. Justin wasn’t sure. Getting ready to move to San Francisco. But there were so many things to do before that. They didn’t have a place to live there yet. And what would they do about the loft? And the Jeep and the Vette?

Every time he tried to broach the subject with Brian, he was put off. “Later,” Brian said. “I can’t think about that now.”

Brian seemed more and more preoccupied in recent days. Justin walked in to hear him arguing with someone on the phone, but he cut off the conversation when he saw Justin come in.

“What’s wrong?” Justin asked.

“Nothing.” Brian always put him off. “Business. Fucking business.” And that’s all he would say.

On the Wednesday before Christmas Justin came home with some food from the Bangkok Kitchen, a Thai take-out place just off Liberty Avenue. Brian wasn’t on the computer for a change, but sitting on the sofa, staring into space.

“Vegging out?” 

Brian shrugged. “Tired.”

“I hope you’re hungry.” Justin unpacked the food and dished it out. It was good, spicy and rich, but Brian only picked at it.

“You want to watch a movie?” Justin got up and went over to the shelf. “Michael lent me ‘Spider-Man’ – I know you like watching Tobey.”

But Brian shook his head. “I’m not in the mood. I’d rather just fuck. Are you up for it?”

“What do you think?” Justin laughed. “I’m always up for it!”

Usually in the evening, when they had plenty of time, Brian and Justin enjoyed a nice, leisurely fuck. But tonight Brian attacked Justin’s body with an intensity Justin hadn’t seen from him in a long while. He plunged into him again and again, as if he were searching for something that was still eluding him.

“Brian! Wait!” Justin finally cried. “Let me catch my breath!”

“Sorry.” Brian rolled over and reached for a joint he’d rolled earlier. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt,” Justin said, giving Brian a gentle poke. “I’m just breathless. My ass needs to take a break before another round like that!”

Brian took a deep, hard toke on the joint and then passed it to Justin, who took a lighter pull.

“That’s strong,” Justin commented as he handed the joint back to his lover. “It makes my head spin!”

But Brian didn’t answer. He just continued smoking and staring up at the rafters of the loft. The shadows cast by Justin’s Christmas candles made weird shapes across the ceiling and the walls.

Justin decided this was a good moment to bring up some of the things on his mind.

“Brian, we need to talk about what’s going to happen after the New Year. What are we going to do if we don’t have a place to live in San Francisco? And how are we going to get all our stuff out there? And what about the cars? If we aren’t going to take them with us, we’ll need to store them. Or sell them. I think we need to make some plans.”

Suddenly Brian sat up in bed. “Listen, I need to tell you something.”

Justin frowned. This didn’t sound good. “Tell me what?

“I have to go to San Francisco.”

“I know. Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to talk to you about?”

“No,” said Brian, looking away. “I mean I have to go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Justin blinked. “But tomorrow is Thursday! And Christmas Eve is Saturday! That’s cutting it close, Brian!”

“That’s what I need to tell you,” said Brian, his voice flat. “I won’t be here for Christmas Eve. Or Christmas. I won’t be back until after New Year’s. Tony and Radev wanted me there last week, but I put them off until the last minute. But I can’t put them off any longer. I have to leave in the morning.”

Justin felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “But... but it’s Christmas!” 

“It’s business!” Brian said sharply. “Face it, Christmas is just another day. But it’s a day that’s important to the P.R. business. Radev is having a series of big events at his hotel and I’m supposed to be coordinating them. I have to be there. I should be there now. And that’s the reality of the situation.”

“But Brian! It’s Christmas!” Justin repeated. “And it’s our anniversary!”

“Anniversary? Anniversaries are bullshit,” Brian mumbled. “It’s a fucking day! A fucking word! It’s meaningless!”

Justin felt a sob rise in his throat. “Is that what you think we are, Brian? Meaningless?”

“It has nothing to do with us!” Brian blasted. “Whatever ‘us’ is! It’s like those fucking Christmas cards. Empty sentiment.”

“Empty? That’s what you think about us, isn’t it? An empty space.” Justin replied. “And that’s what I am – an empty hole for you to fuck! Like you did tonight! I could have been anyone. It doesn’t matter, does it, Brian? I’m a handy fuck. It doesn’t have anything to do with love or commitment or being partners, because those are only empty words, too. Words you hate to say. Hate to think about!”

“You’re making too much out of this!” Brian got out of bed. “But if you want to know the truth, those are just words. Fucking words! I ought to know because I deal with words and I know how hollow they can be. If words are all that’s important to you, Sunshine, then that’s your problem!”

“Yes! Words are important!” Justin countered. “Especially when you don’t say them! Or are incapable of saying them! Can you say any of those words? Can you, Brian?” Justin waited, but Brian simply stood there. “And when were you planning to tell me you were leaving, Brian? When I saw you carrying the suitcases to the door?”

“I told you just now!” Brian rubbed his forehead.

“And how long have you known you weren’t going to be here for Christmas?” Justin asked. But Brian didn’t answer. “You’ve known for a long time, haven’t you? You’ve known since you got back from the last trip. Admit it!” Again Brian didn’t reply. “But you didn’t tell me. Because you knew how I’d take it! And what about Gus? What about his Christmas?”

“Gus is just a kid,” said Brian, his face like stone. “He’ll get over it.”

“Like you got over all the rotten things your parents did to you when you were a kid?” Justin turned away, unable to look at his lover.

“Fuck you!” Brian whispered.

But Justin heard it as if it had been a shout. “And fuck you, too! I love you, Brian, but what does that mean? Do you love me at all? Do you even know what love is?”

“It’s words!” Brian exclaimed. “Bullshit words!”

“That’s some answer,” said Justin. “I guess I can’t expect a better one from you. Everyone warned me what to expect, but I didn’t believe them. Emmett warned me. Deb warned me. Lindsay and Mel warned me. Even Michael warned me. But I told then they didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about. I thought I knew the truth. But I was wrong, wasn’t I, Brian? And they were right. You can’t change! And you can’t love me – or won’t love me – the way I love you.”

“Don’t go there, Justin,” Brian cautioned. “This isn’t the time or place for this.”

“Then when is the right time? And what is the right place? After you leave for San Francisco and I stay here? You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go with you!”

“It’s business!” Brian cried. “This isn’t a party for fun. There’s no place for you there when I’m working!”

Justin nodded. “No place for me. It figures. When will there ever be a place for me in your life? I was willing to give up everything to follow you, Brian! To go anywhere with you! But you don’t want me to do that. I’d be in your way, wouldn’t I? And I wouldn’t want to be in your way!”

“It isn’t that!” Brian protested. “I need to concentrate on my job right now! When the holidays are over, we can move on. And then I can... can tell Tony about... everything.”

“Tell Tony? About everything?” And Justin began to realize what Brian meant. “You haven’t told them about me. They don’t know you live with someone here. Or, to be more accurate, that someone lives with you! A little fuck buddy you picked up last Christmas Eve. Someone who doesn’t really matter. Whether he tags along to San Francisco or not doesn’t really matter! And whether I stay here or go doesn’t really matter, either, does it?”

Justin got out of bed and began to get dressed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” said Brian.

“Leaving.”

“Oh, no you’re not!” Brian grabbed Justin’s arm.

But Justin pulled away. “Get the fuck off me!”

Justin dressed quickly and shoved a few things into his messenger bag. Then he headed for the door.

But Brian blocked his way. “Where do you think you’re going at this time of night?”

“I don’t know,” Justin replied. “Somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t here. Anywhere that...” Justin’s voice broke. “That isn’t with you!”

Brian stood aside and let Justin open the door. Let him go out, sliding the heavy iron behind him.

Leaving Brian alone in the loft, as the red and green Christmas candles burned down to wax puddles in the dish.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving, Part Two.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Brian lit another joint and opened a new bottle of bourbon. If he couldn’t sleep or fuck, then he might as well drink and get stoned. Why the fuck not?

When it began to get light out, he realized that he needed to get his shit together so he’d be able to get himself to the airport. He needed to pack and clean up. He also needed to call for a cab.

But there was one more thing he needed to check.

He pulled on his jeans and a sweater and slipped into a pair of old sneakers that weren’t his own, but were battered enough so that he could just manage to make them stay on his larger-sized feet. Then he took the elevator downstairs and went into the garage.

Maybe – just maybe – Justin was still there. Maybe he was sleeping in the front seat of the Jeep, too tired or angry or depressed to have gone anywhere. Maybe he was waiting. Waiting for Brian to come to his fucking senses and come after him.

Brian remembered telling Michael long ago, when he’d still been with Dave, the control-freak chiropractor, that he should never go after anyone. Never. Because no one was worth compromising yourself for. No one was worth fighting for. No one would really stay anyway, so what the fuck did it matter?

Unless it did matter.

Unless it mattered more than anything else in the whole fucking world.

But the parking space next to the Vette was empty.

Empty.

Like fucking words.

Like fucking promises.

Like goddamn, fucking emotions.

Empty.

Like Brian.

He turned around and went back upstairs and got ready to leave for San Francisco.

 

***

After Justin drove the Jeep out into the dark, snow-covered streets, he realized that he didn’t know where he was going.

He couldn’t go back home. His father had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome there. Would, in fact, never again be welcome there.

But his father was gone himself, Justin realized. He’d moved out. His parents were getting a divorce!

He was half way there when he turned around and headed in the other direction.

He’d be damned if he was going to show up at his mother’s door in the middle of the night, having left the man who he’d given up everything to be with. The man he’d vowed to love forever. His first, his last, his only.

What a stupid jerk he’d been! How fucking naive! To believe all that romantic bullshit! 

His mother would shake her head, sadly and knowingly. She would be too classy to say “I told you so!” – but she’d be thinking it. They’d all be thinking it! Deb. Emmett. Lindsay and Mel. Even Daphne. He’d been too misty-eyed to see clearly. Too dazzled by Brian Kinney to see him for what he really was.

Justin pictured Brian in the loft. Alone. Probably drinking. Definitely getting high.

What was he thinking? Was he thinking about Justin? Was he thinking about anything?

Well, that wasn’t his concern anymore.

Well, it wasn’t!

He found himself heading back towards the loft.

No! He couldn’t go back! Not after what they’d said to each other!

He couldn’t.

He drove around for a while, circling the blocks near the loft. Then he drove over to Liberty Avenue. He went up and down the street. He could go into the diner and sit until morning. But someone – Kiki or Juanita, whichever was on the late shift – would tell Deb and then he’d have to explain things.

“I told you so, Sunshine!” He could hear her voice ringing in his ears. “Goddamn Brian! He never changes!”

Except...

Except he has changed, thought Justin. I know he has.

Then why doesn’t he trust me? What’s the matter with him?

Why is he so fucking scared?

Justin parked the Jeep just off Liberty Avenue on Barker Place. Babylon and the bars had shut down hours ago and it would be more hours until the other businesses began to open up. Only the Liberty Diner was alight. He could see it from where he was parked.

What am I going to do? he wondered. I’ve really fucked up my life! But there’s no going back. I can only go forward.

But what is forward?

And do I want to go forward without Brian?

But do I have a choice?

He leaned his head on the steering wheel and found that the tears he’d been holding back could no longer be denied. He cried until he thought he didn’t have another drop of water in him. And then he found some more. Just a little more. 

He dried his eyes on his scarf. It was cold in the Jeep and the windows were fogged up so he could no longer see out of them. He wiped his gloved hand across the windshield. Everything was quiet.

He sat back and leaned his cheek against the headrest. He was so tired. Exhausted physically and emotionally. If he only closed his eyes for a few moments, it would he okay. Then his head would be clearer. He could decide what to do.

He was jolted awake by a sharp rapping sound.

It was broad daylight.

A face was scowling at him through the side window.

“What are you doing here?”

Justin looked around in confusion. Then he remembered. The loft. Brian. The Jeep. “I... I was just leaving.”

“Step out of this car!” It was one of Mayor Stockwell’s Stormtroopers. His long black coat and helmet-like hat made him look like a bird of prey, ready to swoop down on an unsuspecting and innocent creature.

Justin rolled down the window. That’s when he recognized the cop who had stopped him twice before. The sergeant. The man Carl had warned him against. Rikert.

“I was just leaving! I’m late!” Justin turned the key in the ignition and the Jeep sputtered to a cold start.

“I said step out of the car! Now!” The expression on Rikert’s face gave Justin the creeps, as if a cat had walked over his grave. “Sleeping in your car is against the law, especially in this neighborhood. Are you hustling? Is that why you’re here?”

“No, Sergeant. I... I work at a restaurant. I’ll be late for the breakfast shift!” Justin lied. “I promise it won’t happen again!”

Rikert leaned in at the window. “How do I know it won’t happen again?” His voice was softer now, but no less creepy. “What will you give me if I let you off?”

“Um, I don’t have anything.” Which was the truth. He only had a few dollars in his wallet. certainly not enough to pay off a cop. 

“Sure you do,” Rikert purred. “You have plenty. And so do I.” The cop cupped his crotch and began to breath heavily. “I’ll let you go if you suck me off.”

Justin shuddered. “I can’t! I... I’ve never done anything like that!”

Rikert laughed nastily. “Don’t give me that! You’re Kinney’s boytoy. I know all about you. You suck and you fuck! You do everything – with him! Well, now you’re going to expand your horizons. Or else you’re going downtown to the Queens Tank. Down there you’ll find lots of guys who like to play with a pretty boy like you. Know what I mean? So which will it be? Me – or the Queens Tank?”

“Please, sir, just let me go. Please!” Justin found that he was begging. That he was truly afraid. Carl hadn’t been kidding about this guy!

“Turn off your engine and step out of the vehicle!” Rikert ordered. “Now!”

Justin fumbled, reaching for the key. His hand slipped and he hit the horn. The loud blast startled him, but it also startled Rikert, who jumped back from the Jeep, swearing loudly.

Justin didn’t waste a moment. He slammed the Jeep into gear and peeled away from the curb. He careened down Liberty Avenue. He didn’t look back.

 

***

Justin had been driving for about ten minutes before be realized that Rikert wasn’t going to follow him. It was fully morning now and the rush hour was just beginning.

Maybe Rikert had only been fucking around with him. Only trying to scare the shit out of him. Maybe that’s how the guy got his kicks.

Well, it worked! His heart was still pounding and his hands were shaking. 

But he also knew where he had to go.

He circled back and headed down Fuller.

The Vette was in its spot. Justin pulled the Jeep beside it, where it belonged.

He took his messenger bag and rode the elevator back upstairs.

“Brian!” he called as he pushed open the door. “Brian! We need to talk before you go!”

But his words echoed in the empty space.

The bed had been made. The candles from last night put away. An empty bottle of Jim Beam was in the kitchen trash.

The closet door was open, one hanger on the floor where it had fallen.

Brian had already left for San Francisco.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strings attached.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

When he landed in San Francisco, Brian was met by a uniformed man holding a sign that read “Kinney.”

“Here!” Brian called. “I’m Brian Kinney.”

The guy wasn’t bad. Late 20’s. About 6 foot 3. Black hair and black eyes. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Kinney?” he said in a deep baritone. He reached for Brian’s bag.

“Gladly.”

Brian was led to a long, dark blue Lincoln limo. Inside was Stefan Radev.

“Finally,” said Radev. He was smoking one of his slim French cigarettes. He offered one to Brian.

“Thanks.” Brian took the cigarette. “Those smokeless flights are hell on my nerves.”

“That is why I have my own jet,” said Radev. He lit Brian’s cigarette with a heavy gold-plated lighter. “It makes things much more convenient. And comfortable.”

“Must be nice. Nice lighter, too.”

“A man with good taste.” Radev smiled. “It is a classic. A Dunhill from the 1940’s. I collect these trifles. Here.” He pressed the lighter into Brian’s hand. “A Christmas present.”

Brian handed the lighter back. “I don’t do Christmas.”

But Radev refused to take back the lighter. “You should never refuse a gift given in good faith, my friend.”

“I never accept a gift until I know what strings are attached to it.” Brian blew out a puff of smoke and stared out the window. San Francisco in December was wet and grey.

“I find that the adventure is finding out,” Radev commented. “Not everyone is such a cynic as you, Brian. You are a beautiful and desirable man. You have a sharp mind. You have all of the gifts so many men would kill to possess, yet you view the world as a soldier views a hostile battlefield. That fascinates me.”

“I just look at things the way they are,” Brian replied. “The world is a war zone, especially for queers. Why pretend anything different?”

“But the world is changing,” Radev reflected. “Not so many years ago I could never have become successful as an out homosexual running businesses that cater to other homosexuals. I would have had to live and operate underground, the way I did in my recalcitrant youth back in Sofia. But now I am not afraid of anything. I am wealthy, successful, and open about every aspect of my life. I even have a plaque from the Chamber of Commerce of Palm Springs, thanking me for my contribution to tourism in their community! Straight people would be surprised at how profitable it can be to provide gay men a safe place to enjoy the company of other men.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised at all,” said Brian. “I’ve spent many hours in backrooms all over this country – and England, too, not to mention Mexico and a few select spots in the Caribbean. I would never underestimate the power of wanting to get laid.”

“I can believe that.” Radev looked at Brian closely. “Then tell me, Brian – why are you not happy? Or were you born with a melancholy disposition?”

Brian shrugged. “Fuck if I know. My old man used to call it the Black Dog. Maybe it’s an Irish thing. We’re the only people who seem happiest when we’re the most miserable. And this lousy weather doesn’t help things much.”

Radev laughed. “It is San Francisco! One gets used to the fog and damp. After the New Year I will be heading for Palm Springs. The sun and desert air will clean out my senses.” Radev paused. “I am expecting good things to come out of the holiday events at The Maxim. You’ve done a fine job, Brian, even from afar.”

“I did what I had to do,” Brian replied. “I pride myself on giving the client 110%, if not more. Even Gardner Vance can’t deny that.”

“I hear Vangard is not doing so well with some of its biggest clients,” Radev mused. “Brown Athletics has been sending out feelers for a new agency. So has Ramson.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Brian sniffed. “Gardner is all bluff and blunder when he should be attending to the client’s needs. That’s why he couldn’t land Leo Brown in the first place. And Ramson? He has no clue how to market them!”

“But you do?” Radev arched an eyebrow.

“Yes. They loved my campaigns,” Brian returned. He was proud of his work and wasn’t hesitant to let Radev know it. “I was the one who got Brown hooked up with Drew Boyd and that campaign turned his sportswear line around. I also invented the entire Endovir campaign for Ramson. Of course, Vance took all the bows for it, but he never would have come up with those ideas. He thinks he’s an innovator, but he’s as conventional as they come.”

“And you were also indispensable in the election of James Stockwell as mayor of Pittsburgh,” Radev stated.

Brian blinked. “Everyone makes mistakes.” He swallowed, feeling a little sick all of a sudden. He thought about Liberty Avenue. The closed gay businesses. The men looking over their shoulders, afraid to be themselves. Stockwell’s smug face. “Even me.”

“It was business,” said Radev. “I am sure.”

“That’s what I told Jus...” Brian stopped. “Yes, it was business. But it was bad business.”

“Then you are well rid of Pittsburgh!” Radev nodded. “The fog and damp notwithstanding, San Francisco is more welcoming. Here we will do only good business! I have many ideas for future events at my hotels, not only The Maxim, but all of my properties. I was also thinking of expanding into the cruise business. It seems a natural fit with my resorts.”

Brian tilted his head, thinking. “That’s an interesting idea. Gay cruises are hot right now. I can see a campaign that plays on the word ‘cruise’ – ‘Cruising the Caribbean is as Easy as Cruising the Castro.’ Something like that.”

“Yes!” said Radev in delight. “That is what I like about you, Brian! You are always thinking! But then, I like everything about you.” He leaned closer to Brian. “I would like you to come with me to Palm Springs. You will have your own guesthouse in my compound. And a car and driver at your disposal. It will be a working vacation for both of us.”

“That might be nice,” said Brian, warily. He looked down at the gold-plated cigarette lighter in his hand. “But what are the strings attached to that one?”

“I want to sleep with you, of course,” Radev said candidly. “That is a given. I wanted to sleep with you from the moment I saw you years ago at the White Party. And when I suggested you to Tony Conway and his partners it was in the back of my mind that I would have you at last. But it is not simply about sex, Brian. I have as many sex partners as I wish. Sex partners are easy to come by.”

“Like your driver?” Brian guessed.

“Of course,” said Radev. “Luis is available whenever I need him. He is excellent. If you would like him tonight or any other time, simply ask.”

Brian almost laughed. It was like the scenario of a bad porno flick. But then he’d already lived those porn scenarios more times than he could count. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He closed his eyes. This was all too fucked up. But he didn’t know why. It should be great! Easy sex with hot guys. Stefan Radev panting after him like a cock-hungry virgin. New campaigns falling into his lap. Vance’s business going into the toilet. Everything was going his way. So what the fuck was the matter?

“What are you thinking about, my friend?” Radev was close to his ear.

“Nothing,” said Brian. “And everything.”

“As I said before, I am looking for more than sex. I find myself attracted to you in ways I have not been for a long time. I will not use the word ‘love’ because I believe that is something that comes only with time – if it comes at all. But I admire you, Brian. I wish to work with you. I also wish to enjoy you in every way I can. I know that I am older than most of your lovers, but I keep myself fit and my sex drive is as strong as it was when I was 30. I don’t mind you having other lovers – I like variety as well. But I think this could be advantageous to both of us. So I would like you to consider the possibility of a partnership.” 

“You mean literally?” Brian asked in disbelief. “Are you courting me? Seriously?”

“Yes,” said Radev. “Seriously.”

“But you don’t know me!” Brian’s head was pounding.

“I know what I need to know,” Radev asserted. “I am willing to take a chance, as you Americans say. If things do not work out, we can end things mutually, in a civilized manner. I can also assure you that no matter how or when things end, you will receive a generous settlement. Enough to start your own business or even retire in comfort. Your lawyer can go over any agreement to make certain it is to your satisfaction.”

Brian felt something cold crawl up his spine. The snake of temptation. This guy wasn’t fucking kidding!

“You want to buy me,” he said flatly.

“No, my beautiful friend,” answered Radev. “I want to possess you. And I can make that possession extremely pleasant. And extremely lucrative. So will you think about this, Brian?”

Brian stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the armrest of the limo. “I...” He opened his mouth and then closed it, like a fish caught on dry land.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, finally.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussion with Daphne.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

“What am I going to do, Daph?”

Justin rolled over onto his stomach and punched the pillow in frustration.

“I don’t know,” Daphne replied. They were lying on her bed, the way they used to when they were in high school. When they used to share their dreams, their hopes, their fears. They hadn’t done that in a long time – until today. “So – do you love him?”

Justin shut his eyes. He could still feel Brian’s skin against his from the last time they made love. Still feel his lips on his neck. His cock in his ass.

Maybe it was only lust. Maybe that was all it was. Maybe the cure was to do another guy. Or to do a lot of other guys. To work out all that lust.

Justin shook his head. No, it was more than that. He thought about that first night in the loft, almost one year ago. How it was like he’d finally understood what life was all about. It was about two people becoming one. Feeling the same thing. Wanting the same thing. Being together. Forever. 

Yeah, that was pretty corny, but it was true! Justin knew it was!

“I love him,” Justin stated firmly. “I know he’s not perfect, but...”

“Not perfect?” Daphne interrupted. “After what you told me, he seems about as far from perfect as any guy I can think of!”

Justin winced. “That’s because I was mad, Daph. I was venting. Brian has his faults, but he also has a lot of great things about him, too.”

“Oh?” Daphne rolled her eyes. “Like the fact that he’s tall and good-looking and you two have great sex?”

Justin smacked her arm. “Stop! Sex is really important! Remember how you dumped Billy Hauser because he was a bad kisser?”

Daphne made a face. “That wasn’t all that was wrong with Billy Hauser! But you can’t have an entire relationship that’s only based on sex! I’m just saying!”

Justin bit his bottom lip. “Brian tells me things. Usually when we’re in bed. In the dark. He’s had some really crummy things happen to him in his life.”

“So have a lot of people,” Daphne pointed out. “That’s no excuse.”

“He’s a good person,” Justin asserted. “He doesn’t want people to see how vulnerable he is. He’s built this big wall around him for protection and he hides behind it. And for good reason! You should have been there when we went over to see his mother on Thanksgiving. The house was dark and it had this creepy feel to it – like someone had died in there. His mother was sitting in the dark with Brian’s sister and she was drunk. Maybe both of them were drunk. She looked at me and Brian and her eyes...” Justin shuddered. “The way she looked at me made my skin crawl. And when Brian told her about us, that he was gay and that we were together, she had such hatred in her eyes! I could feel Brian shaking.”

“That’s horrible,” Daphne whispered. “But your dad was an asshole to you, too.”

“I know,” Justin returned. “But that’s only recently. When I was growing up he loved me. And I loved him. That’s why I know eventually he’ll come around and accept me for what I am. But Brian’s mother – she’ll never accept him now because she never accepted him before she knew he was gay. And his father wasn’t any better. Imagine how that must feel? To know your parents never wanted you! That they never, ever told you that they loved you.” Justin sat up suddenly. “They never said ‘I love you’! They couldn’t even tell their own son they loved him!”

“Yeah?” Daphne shrugged. “That’s really shitty.”

“Don’t you see, Daph? That’s why Brian can’t say it! That’s why it’s so fucking hard for him to say it! Even his parents didn’t love him – or he thinks they didn’t. So how can he believe that anyone else loves him? How can he trust anyone to love him, for real?” Justin swallowed. “Even me. It’s too hard for him to believe it.”

“That’s really screwed up,” said Daphne. “And it doesn’t sound too great if you’re trying to have a relationship with the guy.”

“I know,” Justin sighed. “But what can I do? I love him!”

“Where is he now?”

“In San Francisco,” Justin replied. “There’s some big event at a hotel there and his new P.R. agency put him in charge of it. I know how important this job is to him, but the thing that kills me is that he didn’t tell me he’d be gone for Christmas! That’s our One Year anniversary! Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to him, but it means something to me!” Justin paused, rubbing his eyes. “It means a lot to me, Daph. It’s when everything in my life changed. And I thought it changed for Brian, too!”

Daphne reached out and patted Justin’s arm. “Have you talked to him since he left? Have you told him how you feel?”

Justin turned over and buried his face in the pillow. How many times since Brian left had he picked up the phone and wanted to call him? And how many times had he put it down again? But why should he be the one to make the first move? Brian was the one who didn’t tell him what was going on! Who didn’t tell his bosses that he had a boyfriend – if that’s what Justin was! Brian should call him!

Justin lifted his head from the pillow and looked at his friend. “No. I haven’t talked to him. I’m waiting for him to call me!”

Daphne shook her head. “The two of you are so stubborn! If neither of you makes the first move, where does that leave you? Are you just going to let it go like that? And what happens when he comes home? Are you both just going to pretend that nothing happened?”

“I don’t know,” Justin whispered.

“If Brian’s not here, what are you going to do for Christmas?” Daphne asked.

“The same as we planned, I guess. Go to Deb’s for Christmas Eve, then back to her house for dinner on Christmas day.”

“But what about your mom? If your dad has moved out, isn’t she going to want you to be with her and Molly?” 

Justin frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. Everything is different if Dad isn’t living at home! I better call her. God! This is so fucking complicated!”

“Hello! Welcome to the real world!” said Daphne, knocking on Justin’s forehead.

“Quit that!” Justin grabbed Daphne’s hand. “You think I’m being a total drama queen, don’t you?”

“What else is new?” she laughed. “You’ve been a drama queen for as long as I’ve known you!”

“That long, huh?” said Justin. He and Daph had been friends since they were twelve. “Is that how long you’ve known I was gay?”

“I think so,” Daphne reflected. “I don’t think I knew exactly what it was you were, but I knew you were different from the other guys.”

“Well, duh!”

“No, I mean you liked art, and going shopping, and hanging out with the girls. Stuff like that. And you totally sucked at baseball. And you loved ‘The Lion King’ – and ‘Singin’ in the Rain’!”

“That’s such an insulting stereotype,” Justin sniffed. “Even if it happens to be true! And there’s nothing gay about loving ‘Singin’ in the Rain’! It’s a classic!”

“What about when you were obsessed with ‘Rent’? Remember when we listened to the CD over and over again?”

“Yeah,” said Justin. “Lying on this bed, in this room. Talking about running away to New York and living in some crummy apartment. I was going to be a famous artist and you were going to be a famous actress. We were going to starve together!”

“And now here we are,” said Daphne. “Still trying to figure out what to do with our lives.”

“You’re going to law school,” Justin reminded her. “And I still want to be an artist. That’s still my dream.”

“Is that what you want more than anything else in your life?” Daphne asked, her face serious.

Justin took a deep breath. “Yes. That... and Brian.”

“Well then,” said Daphne. “What are you waiting for?”

“I know,” Justin agreed. “What AM I waiting for?”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conquest?

San Francisco, December 2005

 

Radev’s limo pulled up in front of The Maxim and the driver, Luis, opened the door for Brian.

“Brian,” said Radev. “I would like you to have dinner with me this evening in my suite. There are a number of things we must discuss.”

Brian got out of the car. A light rain was falling.

“Not tonight. I need to get a handle on what is happening here at the hotel and I need to focus on that and nothing else. That is – if you want me to do the job I’m being paid to do?”

“Certainly,” Radev replied. “I want you to do your job. This is, of course, my hotel, and the events must be perfectly done. I do not expect anything less – from you.”

“Neither do I – from myself.” Brian smoothed his coat and brushed the rain from his hair. “I told you I always give my clients 110%. All of my clients. And now I need to go and see how things are coming along.”

“Go and do your job, then. But tomorrow evening we will have dinner together. I will make reservations at Farallon. You will find it amusing and the food is superb.”

“Okay.” There was no getting out of that, thought Brian. Radev’s my client. Period.

Radev raised the window and a moment later the limo pulled away and drove down the Castro. 

Brian checked in and was taken up to his room – a different room than the one he’d stayed in on his last visit. This was a suite one floor below the penthouse, with a separate bedroom and bath, living area, and kitchenette.

“Are you sure this is the correct room?” Brian asked Clark, the bellboy, another grinning blond gym bunny in a uniform.

“Yes, Mr. Kinney,” Clark said brightly. “It’s one of our long-term suites.” He walked over and opened the bar. “The bar is fully stocked and so is the fridge, but room service is available around the clock. They brought in new furniture last week. It’s more modern than what was in here before. I hope it’s to your taste. But if there’s anything you want changed, please let us know.”

Brian frowned. He recognized the Moda decor. “They remodeled this suite? Why?”

Clark hesitated. “I’m not sure, but Mr. Penley said specifically to find out if this was more to your liking. Is it?”

Penley. The suck-up manager of the place. “Yes, it’s fine. I mean, I like it. I love Italian furniture.”

Clark grinned even wider, if that was possible. “That’s swell! I mean, I’ll tell Mr. Penley, sir.”

“Thanks. That’ll be all for now.” Brian reached into his pocket and took out his wallet to give the boy a tip.

“Oh, no!” Clark put up his hand to stop him. “No tipping.”

“You don’t want a tip?” This was a new twist.

“We all have instructions from Mr. Radev. Everything is already taken care of, Mr. Kinney,” Clark said. “Everything.” Then Clark grinned again. He made no move to leave the room.

“Oh.” Well, that was clear enough. “Thanks. I’ll remember that. You can go now. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Very good, sir,” said Clark, disappointment in his voice. “If you need anything at all, please call and ask for Clark.”

Brian nodded. “I’ll remember that.” He practically hustled the kid out the door. “Thanks.”

Jesus. This fucking place was a velvet trap. It offered everything you could ever want, at any time of the day or night. And it’s all free. All you had to do was turn over your fucking soul to the management. To Stefan Radev.

It would be so fucking easy to fall into this. Too easy. 

That was the red light for Brian. The easy part. He was wary of anything that came too easily. He’d always had to work his tail off for everything he had. He’d struggled to be a good student, all the while pretending to toss it off without a thought. Then, after he’d blown off – literally – an easy ride to Penn State, with his ticket written by a rich guy he’d been fucking, he’d had to break his ass again working his way through college. And after that, coming up through the ranks at Ryder Associates. Starting as a summer intern, then an office boy, then an assistant to one of the ad executives before becoming one himself. And then a partnership at Vangard. Well, until that all went south.

But he could do it again. This P.R. job was only the first step. If he could get a foothold here in San Francisco, where his sexuality was either a non-issue or a plus depending on how you looked at it, he could then move to an first-rate ad agency. Or he could start up his own.

His own agency. That had always been his dream. Owning his own agency – and before he was forty! It was possible. He could make it happen. With a little luck. With the right opportunities. With a lot of work. With his own undeniable talent.

And with Stefan Radev’s money he could make it happen tomorrow.

Unfortunately, Radev’s money came with Radev.

He took out his Razr and flipped it open. Three unheard messages.

The first was from Michael. Wondering where the hell he was. The word that he was in San Francisco obviously hadn’t gone out on the Tell-A-Queen Network yet, which meant Justin hadn’t told Deb. Hunter was sick with the flu and Mikey was worried about Ben getting it. God damn! Whenever Ben got the sniffles Michael freaked out!

The second message was from Lindsay. Both Gus and J.R. were sick, too. Jesus, what was it with kids? They must pick these bugs up in school or pre-school or wherever it was they went. Lindz was worried about Christmas and wanted him to call her, ASAP.

The third unheard message.

But it was Claire. 

Great. That’s all he needed.

“The flowers came, Brian. But what about you? Are you going to come over to see Mom on Christmas? If you do, don’t bring your little ‘friend’! Don’t even consider it! What were you thinking on Thanksgiving, Brian? It’s just like you! It’s always about you, isn’t? You never think about what I’m going through! I’m the one she calls every day. And I have to deal with her while you get away scot free! I also need more money to pay some of Mom’s bills. The check you sent last month didn’t cover everything. You owe us, Brian! Think about that while you’re out wherever you are having fun with your little blond boy!”

Yadda yadda yadda. 

Brian snapped the phone shut. He’d heard enough.

Always the same old shit.

Always.

He couldn’t get away from it, even from a distance of over 2000 miles.

He stared at the phone.

Nothing from Justin. No message. Not even to ream him out.

Nothing.

He put the phone back into his pocket.

Tomorrow the holiday events began at The Maxim with a Friday Happy Hour Tea Dance. Then on Saturday night the big Christmas Eve bash. He had a lot of work to do. That had always been his safe place. Work. The place where he could always shine. Brian fucking Kinney!

He looked at himself in the mirror and adjusted his hair. Even after a long plane ride and all the shit he’d been through, he still looked fabulous. That was all that mattered. All that had ever mattered.

He could conquer the fucking world!

So he went out to begin his conquest.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trimming the Tree.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

“There,” said Justin, stepping back. “That looks really good.”

But no one answered because he was alone in the loft.

It was only a small tree sitting on top of the coffee table in the living room. And it was fake. But with a few cheap ornaments he bought at the Big Q on it, a little tinsel, and a red scarf he found at the bottom of Brian’s closet wrapped around the base, it looked very Christmasy.

Justin had also suspended Brian’s white party lights all over the loft. 

Justin had been surprised at how many of them there were – three cardboard boxes full. So he dragged all the boxes out of the storage room in the basement and brought them upstairs. He knew Brian had bought the lights for some party he’d had years before, but he couldn’t imagine what it must have looked like with all of these lights illuminating the vast space of the loft. So he put them up. He couldn’t get all of them hung without a ladder, but he did the best he could. And when he plugged them all in, they looked amazing!

Wait until Brian sees them, Justin thought. He’ll think the loft looks beautiful.

When Brian sees it. Whenever that would be.

If Brian sees it.

Because there was still no message from Brian in San Francisco.

Justin sighed. He assumed Brian would be back after the New Year, but he was only guessing. Brian had to come back sometime. He had to! All of his stuff was here! Then they’d have to talk things over. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Justin had no idea.

He’d never gone more than a few hours without at least speaking to Brian on the phone, but now it had been almost two days.

Two fucking days!

He checked his cell, but he already knew there would be no message on it.

Stubborn! That’s what they both were. Daphne was right. Neither of them was willing to give in. Justin set his mouth. It was the principle of the thing! Brian was the one who’d started it! He was the one who should call him! He should apologize.

Brian should be the one to say, “I love you, Justin, and I’m sorry!”

Yeah, when pigs fly and Stockwell proclaims ‘Gay Pride Day’!

Justin was startled when the phone rang in his hand, playing a little snippet of ‘Singin’ in the Rain.’

It was Debbie. “Hey, honey, I hate to call you with bad news, but the Christmas Eve party is off.”

Justin sat down on white sofa. “Oh, no! What’s the matter, Deb?”

“You know that flu that’s going around? Well, Hunter picked it up at school and now Ben’s sick, too.”

“That could be bad!” said Justin. He rarely thought about the fact that Ben was HIV positive, but when he did the seriousness of the situation always caught him off-guard. “Is he in the hospital?”

“No, he should be okay, but Michael is going nuts nursing the two of them. I’m going over later with some food. I made Italian wedding soup and I’m bringing a nice loaf of bread to go with it. And I talked to Lindsay earlier today and both J.R. and Gus are sniffling, so I told her we better forget the whole Christmas Eve thing. I’m still planning on making dinner for Christmas day, but it may only be a small group – just me and Carl, you and Brian, and Emmett and Ted.”

“Oh,” said Justin. “I don’t think I’ll be there, either, Deb. My mom wants me to come to her house for Christmas dinner. Since my dad won’t be there, she wants me to be with her and Molly.”

“That’s so nice, honey!” said Debbie. “Your mom needs your support right now. But what about Brian? Is she okay with him? Or will he be coming here instead?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, Deb, but Brian is in San Francisco on business. He won’t be here for Christmas at all. In fact, he won’t be home until after New Year’s.”

“What!” Debbie squawked. “What the hell kind of business takes a guy away from home on Christmas?”

“The P.R. business,” Justin replied with resignation. “The client Brian is handling owns a hotel and they’re doing a bunch of holiday promotions.”

“That stinks,” Debbie huffed. “Why can’t Brian find a job here in Pittsburgh? What’s so fucking great about San Francisco anyway?”

“You know how it’s been, Deb,” Justin reminded her. “This is Brian’s big chance to get back on his feet. I’m sure he doesn’t want to leave Pittsburgh, and neither do I, but we might not have any choice.”

“I can’t believe you two are really thinking about leaving town! It’s crazy! All your friends are here. And your family, Sunshine. Your mom would be devastated if you went that far away.”

“I know, “ Justin admitted. “But... we’ll see, Deb. It might only be temporary.” Or I might not leave at all, Justin thought. If we break up.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about that possibility. Was this really was the end? What if Brian never came back from San Francisco? What if they never spoke again? Never made love again? Never...

“Honey? Are you still there?”

“Oh, sorry,” Justin said. “My mind is wandering.”

“You keep your chin up, baby,” said Debbie. “Things will work out fine. You’ll see.”

“Thanks,” Justin replied. “Oh, Deb, before you hang up, could I talk to Carl? I need to tell him something.”

“Carl’s still down at the station. I’m not expecting him back until later this evening. You know how things are around Christmas – all hell breaks loose!”

“Oh. Then could you have him call me when he gets home?”

“Sure, Sunshine. What’s this all about?”

Justin hesitated. He didn’t want to seem like a scared little kid, but the incident with the cop the day before had unnerved him. That Rikert was seriously creepy. And Carl had warned him to stay away from him. He’d been avoiding Liberty Avenue, but he couldn’t keep avoiding it. The diner was there, and Woody’s, and Babylon. The drug store. Most of their favorite take-out places. And Red Cape Comics wasn’t far away. Liberty Avenue was, in so many ways, the center of his world. He couldn’t stay away from it forever!

Unless they moved to San Francisco.

Shit! Justin grimaced. Things were so totally fucked up!

“Tell Carl it’s about that cop we talked about. He’ll know what I mean.”

“What cop?” Deb’s voice sharpened. 

“Just some cop who stopped me one time,” Justin said, trying to be a vague as possible. The last thing he wanted was for Debbie to get involved in all this. She’d never let it go! “It was nothing. But Carl asked me to tell him if I saw the guy again.”

“Was this guy harassing you, honey? Because some of the guys coming into the diner have been complaining about Stockwell’s goons stepping up their patrols. And stopping a lot of guys to check their I.D.’s and stuff like that. Carl says the whole department is fucking paranoid!”

“Yeah, something like that. So could you have him call me?”

“Sure,” said Debbie. “You take care of yourself, you hear?”

“I will,” said Justin.

He set the phone down and looked at his tree. Looked up at all the white lights twinkling all over the loft. It really did look beautiful.

Christmas.

His favorite holiday.

It was beautiful. So many great memories. And the greatest was a year ago.

One year ago tomorrow night. Christmas Eve. Their anniversary.

So why was he alone?

Why was Brian hundreds – no, thousands! – of miles away?

His stomach ached. His heart ached.

He stared at his little tree, the tinsel and cheap plastic ornaments shining in the darkening room.

“Brian, let’s not fuck this up! Please?” he said out loud.

But his words only echoed in the empty space.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temptation.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

Brian walked into his suite at The Maxim at a little after 11:00. He was fucking exhausted!

The first events of the holiday weekend began tomorrow with the Friday Happy Hour Tea Dance, followed by a private, invitation-only party at the pool. And it went on from there, with events scheduled around the clock right through Christmas Day. Then, after a few days pause, the events revved up again for next weekend and the New Year. Brian had barely had time to catch his breath since he’d arrived – and it would only get worse.

He had a bitch of a headache! Ordinarily he loved seeing to details. He was a perfectionist – some would say anal, in every sense of the word! – and he loved to see the plans that he’d spun carried out to the letter. But in advertising it was a clean, elegant process. You created the campaign, laid it out for the client, got approval, then had your team carry it out, while you supervised. It was like being God and watching everything fall perfectly into place.

But P.R. was a different world. It was messy. It was loud. It was in-your-face. It was hands-on. And Brian had to be there at every step. There were so many little things that could fuck up the entire event. The food. The choice of waiters. The party favors. The decorations in the ballroom or around the pool. The music. The quality of the booze. One slip up and the entire event could go to hell.

When he’d finally arrived at The Maxim and checked out what was happening, he’d found so many things wrong he was ready to scream. And the people who were supposedly in charge? That was a fucking joke! The party planners Larch, Keller, and Conway had hired might know how to organize an underwear party at a sex club or how to hand out free lube samples at a bar, but when it came to throwing a series of classy events at a top hotel, they were fucking clueless!

So Brian immediately began kicking some ass.

Yes, they might think he was a jerk as he began ordering everything changed to his satisfaction, but he didn’t give a shit. He knew what he wanted and they were going to fucking well do it!

“What a bitch!” he overheard one of the planning team tell another. “Who does this Brian Kinney think he is, anyway?”

“Really,” the other replied. “I’ve never heard of him before! He must be Radev’s new fuck. That’s why Tony Conway put him in charge!” And they both laughed.

But then Brian was looming over them like a dark cloud. “I’m running this event,” he said, glaring down with his green, feral eyes. “I’m your fucking boss, that’s who I am! And if you want to keep working for this agency, then I suggest you shut your traps and get to it!”

“Yes, Mr. Kinney. Sorry, Mr. Kinney!” And they went back to work, well aware that Brian was watching everything.

Brian took off his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. Shit! There was still so much work to do before everything was perfect.

He needed a drink. And Tylenol. A lot of fucking Tylenol!

He checked his cell.

One message from Michael. He was still freaking out because both Ben and Hunter were sick with the flu.

Poor Mikey! That’s a lot on his plate, thought Brian. It’s one thing to be dealing with one HIV+ person, but two was almost impossible.

Not too many people knew Hunter was also positive. Michael and Ben were keeping it quiet for the kid’s protection. High school was hard enough as it was without a bunch of judgmental punks knowing that not only do you have HIV, but that you got it by hustling your ass to a bunch of closet queen married men trolling the Warehouse District.

That’s not a life. That’s a fucking living death. And it could have been me, thought Brian. I’ve come so close to losing it all, so many times. And almost always through my own stupidity. By my own pigheadedness. Running away at 16 with some creep I barely knew into a situation I had no control over – I was lucky to get out alive. Lucky to get out uninfected. Yes, I had a slight case of drug addiction, but that was temporary. I got my fucking act together. I moved on. Maybe this isn’t the best job for me, but it’ll do for now. Until I can regain control. Until I can be the one on top. The one calling the shots.

Until...

He ran his thumb over the smooth surface of the phone. Such a simple device. A simple thing. So why was it so hard to make a simple call?

Justin was waiting for him. At home.

His lover.

So why was it so fucking hard to admit that?

He hit the speed dial. Justin would be at the Watermark now, but there was always voicemail.

“Hey. Just checking in. Things are hectic here, but what else is new? Hope everything is status quo there.” He paused, trying to think of what to say. And how to say it. “Look, I was a fucking asshole. I’m always a fucking asshole! That’s a given. Take it or leave it. That’s me. But I’m trying. I know it may not be enough for you, but I AM trying! It’s fucking hard – and I don’t mean my cock. Well, yes, I do, but that’s another story. What I’m really trying to say is... don’t give up on me yet. Not yet. When I get back we need to talk. Seriously. There are so many things that I... I mean... fuck it! You know how I feel about you, Justin. I know you know it, but I think you need to hear it every once in a while. You need to hear it from me. And I need to say it. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

He hoped that ‘Merry Christmas’ hadn’t sounded like a fuck you. For once.

He set down the phone, took off his tie, and poured himself a stiff drink from the bar. It was fully stocked. Nice set-up. Great suite. And all free.

But nothing was ever free. Especially nothing from Stefan Radev.

There was a knock at the door.

Brian looked at his watch. It was almost midnight.

He opened the door.

“Mr. Kinney?” It was Luis, Radev’s red hot chauffeur.

“Yes?”

He smiled. His teeth were blindingly white in his dark, handsome face. “I thought you might like a little company. Can I come in?”

Brian felt his dick stir. He had a headache. It had been a long, tense day. Nothing relaxed him like a good, hard fuck with a hot guy who didn’t expect anything from him afterwards. Just two bodies doing what the Gay God intended.

Luis leaned forward, his lips beckoning. They parted and a wet, red tongue played around the edges of his wide mouth, licking it.

Damn! This guy is fucking hot, thought Brian.

But...

“Thanks, but I’m tired. Tell your boss I appreciate the offer. But I’m afraid I have to decline. No offense to you, but I’m not interested.”

Luis frowned. “You don’t want me?” It was obvious that Luis wasn’t used to being turned down.

“Good night,” Brian said firmly. He gave the guy a gentle shove back. “Sleep tight.”

And then he shut the door. And locked it.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

Although he’d gone to bed dog-tired, an hour later Brian was still only dozing. 

Then the cellphone rang.

He picked it up immediately, suddenly all too aware of what he’d been waiting for.

“Justin.” It was statement. He didn’t even have to look at the cell to know.

“Brian.” Another statement.

Then a moment of heavy silence.

Finally, Justin took a deep breath. “I just got your message. I had my phone on vibrate, but I guess I didn’t feel it.”

“You were out late.”

“I went out with Daphne. She thought I needed to go out and get trashed.”

“Did you?”

“Get trashed? A little.” Pause. “Not too much.”

“Where did you go?”

“Daphne wanted to look at some cute guys – and so did I. We started at Train. It’s a new dance club downtown. But the music was awful. And it was full of straight people. It was gross.”

“That’s what happens when you go to those kinds of places, Sunshine. You see all sorts of perverted things, like guys kissing girls.”

“I know. I’ve learned my lesson. Never again. So then we went to Babylon.”

Brian nodded to himself. “Did you see some cute guys? Anyone really hot?”

“A few. I danced with one guy who couldn’t keep his hands off my ass.”

“Of course. Who could resist that ass?”

Justin laughed. “He couldn’t.”

“So.” Brian coughed nervously. “How was he? A top or a bottom?” 

“I don’t know.” Pause. “Do you really think I fucked him?”

“Why not? You’re young, hung, and hot. I would have.”

“For the record, Brian, I didn’t. But are you telling me you wouldn’t care if I went out and fucked some other guy?”

“I didn’t say that.” Brian’s voice was low. “We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you. About getting your needs met when you need to. That’s all I mean. I’m saying that... if you did, it’s only sex. That’s all it is.”

“Does that mean you just finished fucking some guy?” Justin’s voice took on an edge. “Is he still there? Right there with you in bed?”

“No. You know that when I trick I don’t let some guy stay longer than it takes for both of us to get our rocks off. Besides, I haven’t fucked anyone since I left Pittsburgh. I could of, but... this isn’t about me.”

“Then what is it about, Brian?”

What, indeed? Brian couldn’t articulate it to himself, so how could he explain it to Justin?

“I... I want you to experience everything you can, Justin. Like I did. To do all of the guys you can. To get fucked up when you need to. To live a little before...”

“Before what?”

“Before you decide what it is you really want. Before you give it all up for...”

“For a relationship? For you, Brian?”

Brian swallowed. “For whatever.” He paused. “Yes. For me. I want you to be sure. I don’t want you to look back one day and think ‘Why did I do this? What did I give up? And for this asshole?’ I don’t want to wake up one day and find a Post-It note on my pillow, like that female on ‘Sex and the City.’ A fucking piece of paper telling me that you’re gone.”

Now Justin really laughed. “I thought you hated that show! You say it’s stupid. You always make fun of me when I watch my ‘Sex and the City’ DVD’s!”

“It IS stupid. Those women are fucking idiots and the man are all dickless. Except for Mr. Big. He has a few nice suits.”

“I’m not going to leave you, Brian,” Justin said seriously. “I’m not some 17-year-old kid who doesn’t really know what he wants. Who thinks he’s in love with the first guy he fucks!”

“Oh, no?”

“Yes, you were the first guy I ever fucked, but it’s more than that. I had plenty of chances before that night. I had guys at Dartmouth who were interested in me. An old rich guy in Italy wanted to take me to his villa and have his evil way with me.”

“You should have done it. You’d probably be a kept boy on a yacht with some Italian prince lavishing you with Armani suits and golden cigarette lighters.”

“I’m too short for Armani,” Justin reminded him. “And I don’t need a golden cigarette lighter. I already have a gold and silver bracelet given to me by my generous sugar daddy.”

“I’m not your sugar daddy! You don’t need a fucking sugar daddy! But maybe you do need to... to really know what you want. Maybe me being gone is a way for you to find that out.”

“No, Brian. I already know what I want. I didn’t fuck that guy in Italy because I didn’t want him. I didn’t love him. Some men can have sex and – what did Michael tell me once? – it’s like a handshake to them.”

“Yeah,” Brian sniffed. “Sometimes literally like a fucking handshake!”

“But that’s not me. I want more than that. I NEED more than that. I need you, Brian. I want to be with you. Because I love you. Sometimes you make me crazy, but I guess that’s the chance you take when you love someone. You have to take him as he is. And I’d rather take you, even though you can be an infuriating, insane, and domineering jerk sometimes.”

“And those are my good qualities!” 

“They are,” Justin agreed. “They’re the qualities that make you strong. That drive you to succeed. It’s part of what makes you Brian Kinney. But that’s not all you are. You’re also vulnerable and insecure. A sweet and tender lover. An unselfish and giving friend. A loving father. And, underneath it all, a kind person.”

“Jesus!” Brian breathed. “Don’t tell anyone else that kind of shit! Are you trying to ruin me? Trying to shred my carefully crafted image?”

“Yes,” Justin said. “The re-making of Brian Kinney. With a little help from your partner. Which is me, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten. But what about you, Justin? Who are you, besides my partner? Besides my lover?”

“I’m still figuring that out. Hopefully, an artist. One day. But always a part of you. Never forget that, Brian. Never. Remember what you told me that first night when we made love? That no matter who I was with or what I did for the rest of my life, you’d always be a part of me. Well, no matter where you are or what you do, I’ll always be a part of you, too. Because I love you. And you love me. That’s what it all means.”

“I was wondering what it all meant. Thanks for clarifying the obvious, twat.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“I better get to sleep. I have a lot to do tomorrow. Terrorizing the party planners. Kicking some more incompetent ass. The usual.”

“Get some sleep, Brian.”

“You too. Later, Sunshine.”

“Later, Brian. ’Night.”

Brian put down the phone. Then he rolled over and fell into a deep, dreamless, and restful sleep.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man at Work.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

“Everything looks great, Brian!” Tony Conway happily slapped him on the shoulder.

They were surveying the Happy Hour Tea Dance that was taking place in Ultimate, the club in the basement of The Maxim. The DJ was serving up a mix of disco classics and British trance music, with a few tarted up Christmas carols thrown in for good measure, and the dance floor was packed. The two bars were also doing a roaring business. And the rest of the hotel was booked up solid through the New Year.

“If there’s something that can fuck up, it will,” said Brian.

“It’s awfully loud!” pronounced Mark, Tony’s partner. He put his hands over his ears. “I forgot how much I hate this kind of place!”

“Tomorrow night should be a little more to your liking,” Brian commented. “Radev’s big Christmas Eve party in the ballroom. We’ve hired a jazz trio. The theme is the 1930’s. To match the Art Deco decor.”

“Jazz, huh?” said Mark. “That’s a bit more my speed. Leave all this noise to the kids, right Tony?”

Tony coughed on his Appletini. “I’m not that old,” he said, glancing at Brian. Then he smiled back at his partner. “And neither are you, honey.”

“So, Brian.” Mark turned to the younger man. “You’re coming to dinner on Wednesday, right? You’ll love what we’ve done to our place.”

Dinner with a couple showing off their new house. Brian sighed. It was bad enough to have to sit through that shit with people he knew – Lindsay and Mel, Theodore and Emmett, Michael and the Professor – let alone people from work. He’d never been keen on socializing with business associates, but sometimes he couldn’t avoid it. And it would be hard to avoid it at Larch, Keller, and Conway. 

“Why did you move off of the Castro?” Brian asked. “Seems to me that’s where all the excitement is in this town.”

“Too much excitement,” Mark sniffed dismissively. “Too noisy. Too many tourists. And the place is a parody of itself these days. That’s fine if you’re young and looking for action, like you, Brian. But for an old married couple like us, we need a place to settle down. Right, sweetie?” He put his arm around his partner and gave him a squeeze.

Tony winced slightly, but nodded. “Right, honey.”

“By the way, have you found a place to live yet?” Mark asked.

Brian sipped his Absolut. “No, but I’m still searching. I thought I’d have more time to look in the coming week.”

“Why don’t you just stay here?” said Tony. “What could be better? I know Radev would like it if you did.” He raised an eyebrow and leered at Brian.

But Brian didn’t smile back. “I need my own place. No strings attached.”

“Think it over,” said Tony, leaning close. “Radev can be very generous.”

“I need to go.” Brian drained his drink and set it on the bar. “I need to check out the situation at the pool. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

An invitation-only party was just beginning at the indoor pool. Brian stopped for few minutes to make certain everything was going smoothly. The pool was full of young hard-bodies in Speedos, frolicking in the water, while an assortment of older men in robes watched from the bar and lounge chairs. It looked like the setting of a Falcon porno flick – ‘Sugar Daddy Pool Party.’

“Hey, beautiful,” said a short, balding man holding a Cosmo. “What’s your name?”

Brian wanted to blast the troll with a patented Kinney put-down, but he stopped himself. This guy might well be Radev’s best friend. Or the owner of some bar or other business he might have to deal with in the future.

“I’m Brian Kinney,” he said. “I’m with Larch, Keller, and Conway. We’re organizing this event.”

“Oh, yeah?” said the troll. “I’m Buddy Vitale. I own Vitale Limo Services. I’d give you one of my cards, but I left them in my pants. Ha, ha!” Buddy opened his robe to show that he was naked underneath. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brian replied blandly.

Buddy looked Brian up and down. “Why don’t you take off that Armani suit and jump in the pool?” he suggested. “I bet you’ve got a killer bod!”

“Yes, I do,” Brian said honestly. “But I’m working. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Vitale?”

“Sure, beautiful. But I won’t forget your name. Brian Kinney.” Buddy tapped his head. “I got a mind like a steel trap!”

“I bet you do. Among other things,” Brian said before he hurried away.

Back in his suite Brian took a long, hot shower. He’d been to a lot of sleazy places and done a lot of things he wouldn’t want trumpeted on the front page of the ‘New York Times,’ but for some reason he felt especially soiled after his brief encounter with Buddy. Maybe because in the past he’d only been a visitor at such events. Now he was arranging them. That was the difference. And Brian didn’t like that difference.

He was drying his hair when there was a knock at the door. It was Scott, one of the blond bellboys who were ubiquitous at The Maxim. The kid had blown him on his first trip there. Service with a smile indeed.

“Good evening, Mr. Kinney,” the kid grinned. He was holding a suitbag. “Mr. Radev’s car will pick you up in 20 minutes to take you to dinner.”

“Thanks,” Brian replied. “What’s that?”

Scott handed over the suitbag. “Mr. Radev would like you to wear this tonight. Have a wonderful evening, sir.”

After he closed the door on Scott, Brian unzipped the bag.

It was a Versace suit. The 2005 Fall Collection. It was dark plum, with a blush silk lining.

Brian fingered the lapels, feeling the creamy material. The suit even smelled good – a sweet musky fragrance that Brian inhaled like a rich meal.

The devil always knows exactly how to tempt you, thought Brian. How to offer you just what you want when you’re the most vulnerable.

There was another knock on the door. It was Scott again, this time holding a box. “I almost forgot this! Mr. Radev would kill me if I forgot to give you the shoes!”

The shoes. Prada boots. The leather was buttery soft. In Brian’s size, of course. And the suit was also Brian’s size. It looked to be a perfect fit. Radev probably had all of Brian’s sizes and all of his preferences for booze and food and brands of condoms and lube in a database somewhere.

Everything all wrapped up nice and neat.

Brian wrapped up nice and neat.

Brian got dressed and 20 minutes later Luis was driving him to his dinner with Stefan Radev.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lure.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

Stefan Radev had arranged everything perfectly.

He liked perfection. A perfect meal. A perfect setting. Perfect service.

And a perfect man with whom to enjoy it all.

Farallon featured local seafood and a decor that combined the original Gothic architecture of the old building with outrageous variations on shells, jellyfish, sea-urchins, and other denizens of the sea in hand-blown glass. Some people considered it over-the-top, but Radev thought it was delightfully outré and very American. And Radev loved anything American.

Anything and anyone perfectly American.

He glanced at his watch. Five minutes late. Brian would need a new watch so he would no longer keep Radev waiting. He made a mental note to have an assortment brought over to The Maxim for Brian to choose from. Radev wore a diamond-studded Cartier himself, but he suspected Brian would like a Patek Phillipe better. They were a tad more masculine. Clean and classic, like Brian. A little Christmas gift, like the gold-plated lighter and the clothes. Radev enjoyed buying things and it would be a pleasure to buy things for a man who truly appreciated them.

He looked up and smiled as Brian entered the dining room.

But...

“Brian.” He rose to shake his hand.

“Stefan.” Brian shook the proffered hand and then took his seat opposite Radev.

Brian looked beautiful, as ever, thought Radev. Perfectly groomed. Perfectly composed. However...

“That suit,” said Radev. “I am surprised to see you wearing it.”

“This old thing?” Brian shrugged. “It’s Armani. It’s not new. In fact, it’s vintage. I have a place out in the wilds of Pennsylvania where I get some amazing pieces. The woman who owns the shop – which is in an old barn, if you can believe it – used to be a model in Milan and Paris. She’s Hungarian. She travels to Europe and England and buys things from house sales. She’s got a fabulous eye and she knows my exact size. She also knows what I can afford and what I can’t afford. Lately it’s been more about what I can’t afford, but I still manage to dress well – when I have to.”

Radev cleared his throat. “You look marvelous, Brian. That suit looks like it was made for you.”

“Thanks.”

Radev motioned for the sommelier to bring the wine he had selected earlier. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a seafood tasting menu for both of us. I hope that will be satisfactory?” He nodded for the wine to be poured.

“Certainly,” said Brian, picking up his glass and taking a sip. It was good, but to Brian wine was something to drink and not something to make a fuss over. He thought of David Cameron and his pretentious wine collection and he smiled slightly. “You’re the client.”

Radev frowned. This was not at all going the way he had planned. “May I ask why you did not wear the suit I had sent to your suite?”

Brain gazed back at Radev coolly. “I’d already decided to wear this.”

Radev pursed his lips. “I wanted you to wear the Versace. I selected it specifically with you in mind.”

Brian took a deep breath. “I know. It’s a fabulous suit. A perfect suit. A suit I would kill to own. But I can’t wear it.” He paused, making sure his words were sinking in. “I can’t accept it. Which reminds me.” He took the gold-plated Dunhill lighter out of his pocket and pushed it across the table. “This is yours.”

“And why, may I ask, are you returning this?” Radev took a gulp of wine, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I don’t do gifts,” Brian said flatly. “I don’t do Christmas. I don’t do birthdays. I don’t take anything from anyone. And I don’t give gifts, either. Period.” 

“So you have told me,” Radev snorted. “But that is, as you like to say, bullshit. You give gifts all of the time. You gifted your childhood friend with a very expensive book for his thirtieth birthday.”

“Not a book,” Brian corrected. “A comic book.”

“A comic book, then,” said Radev. “Although what a grown man would want with such a thing is a mystery to me. Later you helped this same friend buy a store. You also gifted a female friend with another generous offering – a child.”

“My son,” said Brian. “Gus.”

“Just so. Your son,” Radev called the waiter over to refill their glasses. “And you give him gifts. Toys and childish things, yes, but also a trust fund. A fund that you did not tap into even when you were facing financial difficulties.”

It was obvious Radev didn’t have any kids. The man was fucking clueless! “The whole point of a trust fund is that it’s for the kid, not for me. It’s Gus’s money. I don’t steal from my own son.”

“I never suggested that you would steal from your child. I am merely pointing out that you do give gifts.” Radev sat back in his chair. “For instance, on your last trip here you also bought a hand-crafted gold and silver bracelet from Reinhold’s. For someone in Pittsburgh. A young man.”

“Yes. For Justin,” Brian said evenly. So, Radev really had been digging into his personal life. That was fucked up, but not all that surprising. “Are you afraid to say his name? Justin Taylor. The man I live with. My... partner.” He paused. “My lover.”

“Is that why you won’t wear my suit?” Radev grumbled. “Why you have returned my lighter? Because of this young man? I have already told you that I am not the jealous type. I don’t mind that you have a boy at home. That has nothing to do with any arrangement we might make. Are you planning to bring this fellow with you to San Francisco?”

“Yes,” Brian felt his face getting hot. “Of course I’m bringing him with me! We live together. I told you – we’re partners.”

“I see,” Radev drawled. “It is strange that you have never mentioned this fact to Tony Conway or the others. They are under the impression that you are a single man.”

“Justin is none of their fucking business,” Brian retorted. “It’s my personal life. And unless I’m fucking you, it’s none of your business, either!”

“Ah,” said Radev. “That is clear enough, Brian. My offer – my gifts and myself – all have been rejected. Rejected quite bluntly.”

“If you want me to leave this restaurant right now, I will.” Brian stared directly at Radev. “But I’m still planning on doing my job. You don’t need to buy me, you don’t need to fuck me, in order for me to do good work for you, Mr. Radev. I do good work because I’m talented and I take pride in what I do. If that isn’t enough, then maybe I’m not the right person for this position. Not the right person for Larch, Keller, and Conway. If that’s the case, so be it. But I plan on finishing what I started here. Then I’ll either go home, get my lover, and come back to go to work, or else I’ll return to Pittsburgh for good and start all over again. But either way, I’ll do it on my own terms. Not yours. Not Tony Conway’s. Not anyone else’s. That’s the only way I can live. That’s the only way I can be true to myself. And true to Justin.”

Brian swallowed. He’d royally fucked himself over before, but never quite so directly. And never with the kind of emotion he was feeling at that moment.

“So, Brian,” said Radev, his face unreadable. “Here comes our first course. I think you will enjoy the oysters and caviar.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stop at the diner on Christmas Eve.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Since Deb’s Christmas Eve gathering had been canceled, Justin decided to take a shift at the Watermark. He knew that people would be in the Holiday Spirit and, therefore, generous with their tips – and he wanted that money. Justin still had to finish paying for Brian’s Christmas gift, not to mention the other things he’d bought for Gus, Molly, and his mother. Every little bit counted.

He also had one other task to accomplish before the evening was through.

“Clarence?” he said, stopping his boss between courses for Table 9. “I mean, Mr. Ramsey?”

“What do you want, Taylor? Hurry up – I’m busy!” Clarence was stressed out. He hated the Holidays with a burning passion. Too many customers. Too many tables packed with screaming kids and cranky old people. Too many drunks. Too much forced good cheer. He could hardly wait until January when he took a well-earned vacation in Fort Lauderdale.

“I need to tell you that...” Justin hesitated. He didn’t care for Clarence and he was sick of the Watermark, but he also hated quitting. But it was necessary. “I’m giving you my two week’s notice.”

“What the hell?” Clarence glared at Justin. “That’s just great! This is all I need tonight! Did you get another job? At that new seafood place, I bet! The manager over there has been cherry-picking my best staff! The fucking bastard!”

Justin was more than pleased that Clarence thought he was one of his best waiters. He was also interested to hear about the new seafood place. But in the end it didn’t matter. “No, I’m not going to another restaurant. Brian and I are leaving town.”

Clarence sniffed. “Finally going to San Francisco? I thought that was some pipe dream you cooked up.”

“It’s no pipe dream,” Justin returned. “Brian has a new job out there. We’re leaving sometime after the first of the year, so I thought I’d give you my notice now.”

“Ah, shit!” Clarence sighed. “All right. But you’re going to at least finish this shift, aren’t you? You aren’t planning to walk out in the middle of dinner service?”

“No, sir,” Justin reassured you. “When I say two weeks, I mean two weeks. Brian is out there now, looking for a place for us to live. I’ll do my job here until then. But I thought I better let you know.”

“Well, thanks for telling me,” said Clarence, grudgingly. “I hate to lose one of my best servers, but in this business the guys come and go. Good luck in San Francisco.”

“Thanks!” Justin put out his hand and Clarence shook it. “I’ve really enjoyed working here.” It was Christmas and a little white lie wouldn’t hurt.

Since it was Christmas Eve, the Watermark closed early for a Saturday night. Justin changed his clothes and got into the Jeep. It wasn’t snowing, but it was cold and getting colder. The loft would be very empty with Brian in San Francisco. Maybe he’d make some popcorn, turn on the lights on his tree and around the loft, and watch the ‘Christmas Story’ marathon on TV. Tomorrow he’d have dinner with his mom and Molly, then go to Deb’s and hang out, then home again to wait for Brian to call after his events were through. He felt a pang of loneliness, but quickly pushed it away. Soon Brian would be home. Soon they would be packing up and leaving for California. A new adventure. A new life. It would be awesome! They would make certain it was!

Justin headed the Jeep toward Liberty Avenue.

He’d been avoiding the area since his confrontation with that creepy cop two days before, but he knew Debbie was working at the diner and he wanted to sit and talk with her. Maybe have a lemon square. There wouldn’t be that many more opportunities to do that before he left town.

He saw a parking spot almost directly in front of the diner. Perfect! He pulled into the space. Liberty Avenue was quiet at that end, but he could hear the music blasting out of Babylon a few blocks away. He considered going over there and killing an hour or so. Dancing a little. Letting some cute guy buy him a drink. But he didn’t really feel like it. It was no fun without Brian. That’s who he wanted to be with, dance with, have a drink with. Brian. Always Brian.

Maybe he was crazy for being in love. Especially crazy for being in love with Brian Kinney. A guy who everyone, from his best friend to his mother to Brian’s best friend, thought was destined to break his heart. But he didn’t care. They were soul-mates. He knew it in his heart. Fate had brought them together. And Fate had done that exactly one year ago that night.

“Sunshine!” Debbie cried. “Sit your bubble butt down right here!”

“Hey, Deb. I thought I’d stop by to pick up a few lemon squares to take home.” Justin slid onto a stool. “Pretty quiet in here tonight, huh?”

“I know,” she replied. “But things will pick up later, after the bars close. Even on Christmas the boys have to keep their strength up if they want to do it all night long!”

“Who’s doing it all night long?”

Justin turned to see Carl coming out of the men’s room. “Hi, Carl! I’m surprised to see you here tonight.”

“I just got off duty, so I thought I’d come and sit with my gal for a while.” He smiled fondly at Debbie, who beamed back at him and took his hand.

It was so weird! They were old – but they were in love! It was obvious to anyone who saw them together. He watched as Debbie leaned over the counter and gave Carl a kiss. Justin tried not to wince. He also tried not to think about them having sex. That was too much! He knew they did it – Debbie could be pretty explicit at times! – but that was way too much information for Justin’s delicate sensibilities. It was like thinking about his parents having sex. Territory he didn’t want to venture into.

When Debbie went to get Carl a hamburger, he turned to Justin, his face serious. “Deb gave me your message about Kenny Rikert. I wanted to tell you that he’s on suspension until further notice. It looks like he’s going to be forced to retire – again. I don’t think even Jim Stockwell can get him off this time.”

Justin felt breathless. “Because of me? Because of what I said?”

Carl shook his head. “No, son. Because of a number of different things. He’s currently under investigation by Internal Affairs. I can’t talk about it because it’s confidential, but you can be assured he won’t be roaming the streets in a Pittsburgh PD uniform ever again.”

Justin closed his eyes in relief. “Thank God! That guy scared the hell out of me!”

“You aren’t the only one,” Carl agreed. “Rikert is a disgrace to his badge. The only reason he’s gotten away with some of the shit he’s been pulling is because he used to be Stockwell’s partner. The Chief – I mean, the Mayor – has been protecting him too long. But that’s over now.”

Justin was almost afraid to ask, but he had to for his own peace of mind. “What was that guy up to, Carl?”

Carl frowned. “This is completely off the record, but since you were one of the boys he’s been harassing, I think you deserve to know. He’s being investigated for exactly that – sexual harassment. Stopping boys, mainly teenagers, and body searching them. Sometimes propositioning them. Threatening them with arrest if they didn’t comply. Most of the gay kids he stopped on Liberty Avenue were too afraid to come forward, but we also had complaints from some parents when he stopped a couple of straight high school students a few blocks from here and shook them down. They’re also questioning his current partner. Apparently he knows a lot more than he wants to tell. But he’ll give Rikert up eventually.” Carl took a deep breath. “Remember that kid who was found in a dumpster a few years ago?”

Justin shuddered. “Wasn’t that not far from here? Behind the Swan Restaurant? I heard Deb talking about it to Michael.”

“Yeah,” Carl nodded. “The manager found the body one morning when they took out the trash from the night before. He was a young hustler who was fairly new to town.” Carl paused. “There are guys on the force who think Rikert might have been involved.”

“A cop?” Justin recoiled. “Why do they think that?”

“Because there were rumors Rikert was hanging out at a hustler bar out in the Warehouse District. That he’d been going there for years, but Stockwell had always covered it up. After this kid was found dead, Rikert ‘retired’ – or was forced to retire. But when Jim Stockwell became mayor, Ken Rikert was suddenly ‘un-retired’ – he was back on duty and out on the street as part of Stockwell’s Anti-Vice Squad. What a goddamn joke! It was the perfect cover for him to target the boys he was attracted to – young, blond, and good-looking.” Carl stared pointedly at Justin.

“Shit!” he whispered. “I thought he was creepy, but I never really thought he was dangerous!”

“It’s a shitty world, son,” said Carl. “And when you’re a cop you see the worst of it. But nothing is worse than a police officer gone bad. The truth is, I’ve seen enough. I’m already over-due for retirement. Come the first of the year, I’m off the force!”

“And we’re going on vacation!” said Debbie, setting a plate of hamburger and fries down in front of her husband. “To Las Vegas! Woo-hoo! Isn’t that right, Sweetie?”

“Right you are, Honey-bunch!” And then they kissed again.

Okay! He didn’t need to see any more of that! Justin stood up. “On that note, I think I’ll get going. Brian might call later, after his big party.”

“You take care of yourself, baby, and maybe we’ll see you tomorrow,” said Debbie. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Deb. You, too, Carl.”

And Justin wrapped his scarf around his head and went out the door into the cold night.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian considers Justin.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

Brian’s dinner with Stefan Radev started badly and went downhill from there.

The food was superb, the booze plentiful, and the waiters good-looking, but after Brian’s pointed rejection of his client’s offer a decidedly Arctic atmosphere permeated the table.

Radev, of course, pretended that nothing had changed. He kept up a continual chat, discussing everything from the public relations business (“amusing”), to hotels he had stayed at all over the world (most “not up to snuff, as they say”), to the quality of the wine available in California (“good, but not as good as Californians like to believe”), to famous closeted queers he had known through the years (he had attended one of Rock Hudson’s infamous pool parties during his first week in Los Angeles in the early 1980’s, while Peter Bridges and Frederick Atwood were current regulars at his resort in Palm Springs).

Meanwhile, as Radev babbled on, Brian focused on getting as drunk as possible without losing his faculties. By the time dessert rolled around – a tiramasu so rich it made Brian’s teeth ache just looking at it – he truly was feeling no pain at all.

“Brian, please let me drive you,” said Radev as they waited for Luis to bring the car to the entrance of Farallon.

“No!” said Brian, a bit too adamantly. He jerked his arm away, but then felt dizzy. “I can get home... I mean back to the hotel. I don’t need any of your fucking help!”

“But you are unfamiliar with the city,” Radev commented as he tried to steady Brian. But the other man shied away. “I would not want you to get lost.”

“I’ve been coming to San Francisco for years,” Brian sniffed. “I’m a big boy. I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Yes,” said Radev, his eyes narrowing. “You are a big boy, Brian. That is not in question. But whether you are a man remains to be seen.”

“How dare you judge whether or not I’m a man! You know fuck-all about me!” Brian snapped. “Just because you’ve had your ass-lickers look me up on the internet, you think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Well, think again!”

“I never said I had you all figured out, Brian,” Radev said quietly. “If that were true, I certainly would not want to get to know you better. But you are a puzzle to me and I adore a puzzle. All I have found out so far are the surfaces of your life. But it is what is underneath that entices me.”

Brian’s mind felt fuzzy around the edges, but not fuzzy enough to fall for Radev’s horseshit psychoanalysis. Or his pathetic attempts at seduction.

“I already told you – what is underneath me is none of your fucking concern! So why don’t you take your gold-plated cigarette lighters and your closets full of over-priced clothes and leave me the fuck alone?”

“As you wish, my beautiful friend,” Radev shrugged. “But we still have business to attend to. Tomorrow is the main event of the weekend – my Christmas Eve Party. I trust everything is in order?”

Yeah, now he asks! Brian thought. “You know it is. It’ll be the Party of the Year – guaranteed!”

Radev’s long Lincoln pulled up. It shone like a sleek, expensive shark in the lights around the restaurant. Luis glanced up and smiled darkly from the driver’s seat. Radev opened the door for himself. 

“It is only a short drive to The Maxim,” Radev stated. He gestured towards the interior of the car.

Like the fucking spider to the fly, Brian thought. No thanks! “I’m fine.” He stepped back from the curb. “Have fun.”

“I suppose I should say the same to you.” Radev got into the car. “Tomorrow, then.”

Brian watched the Lincoln glide away into the misty evening. Then he hailed a cab and directed the driver to take him to Inferno.

 

*** 

 

Around noon Brian woke up with a bitch of a headache. It seemed no matter how many years he’d been drinking, the morning-afters never got any easier.

He stumbled out of bed and groped his way to the bathroom. If he’d been at home, Justin would have been right there, cup of hot, sugary coffee in hand. A cool cloth for his throbbing brow. And a handful of Tylenols.

The night before had been fun. However...

He stared at himself in the mirror and made a face. “You look like shit!” he told the reflection. “But you’re still hot. I’d fuck you!”

Inferno was the hottest new sex club in town. Or at least that’s what Brian had been told. 

As sex clubs went, it was fairly typical. The place was dark. The music low-key Techno. Lots of long, winding, dimly-lit corridors. Rooms of different sizes, offering something for every taste. Orgy Room. Foam Room. Leather Room. Porn Room. Juice Bar.

And the guys... 

Well, they were okay. But everyone seemed older than the last time Brian had been out prowling in San Francisco only a few years before. Maybe it was because it was Christmas and the older guys were treating themselves. Or maybe because it was a Friday night and the younger guys were all at the dance clubs. Or maybe it was because Brian himself was older and just now noticing the ages of the men around him. 

Well, only slightly older. 34. That wasn’t really old. That was fucking young! Look at Radev. He was in his fifties and still thought he was hot shit.

But Brian really was still hot. Still desirable. Obviously. He’d been admired at Inferno. He’d had plenty of offers. Guys wanting to do things to him. And have him do things to them. And not just fucking and sucking. Inferno was a safe-sex club, but there were plenty of come-ons to go elsewhere. To hit a few places where anything went. To take a walk on San Francisco’s wild side.

You’re hot. You’re hung. Come home with me. You fuck me, I’ll fuck you. Oh, baby! Yeah! I’ll suck you, I’ll rim you, I’ll blow your fucking mind! Anything you want. You’re beautiful.

Still beautiful.

In the end he got his dick sucked by some faceless trick in an alcove – it was so dark he couldn’t even tell if the guy was blond or brunet – and then drank a glass of guava juice. After that he took a shower, got dressed, grabbed a taxi back to The Maxim, and crashed.

And now it was Christmas Eve.

There was a return message from Justin on his cell.

“I love you, Brian. And I’ll be waiting here for you when you come home.”

Come home.

I’ll be waiting here. For you.

What did it all mean?

Could it really be true that someone was waiting for him? That someone loved him? Whatever that meant?

Yes, he knew Mikey loved him. That had been a given since he was 14 years old. And Lindsay had a girl-crush on him left over from college. Sure, she was a dyke, but she still had a soft spot for dick every now and then, if you call that love. Even Deb loved him in her own fucked up way. A mothery, smothery, you’re-an-asshole-but-I-don’t-care kind of love. Which was more than Joanie had ever shown him. More than his Old Man had been capable of.

And Justin...

Justin acted like everything that made Brian who he was – his body, his brains, his clothes, his loft, his car, his job, his fucking charm, everything that mattered – didn’t matter. As if there were something else there. Underneath.

That’s what Radev had said. He wanted to find out what was underneath Brian.

But Justin already knew.

It was as if he’d known from that first night.

One year ago.

Fucking anniversaries! He hated the word. Hated the concept. Anniversaries were worse than birthdays! At least you could acknowledge someone had been born without getting all sentimental about it. But anniversaries were about nothing but sentiment. About bullshit romance. Couples. Years going by while you both got old and gray and eventually fell apart. And with Justin, he’d always be the one getting older. Much older. While Justin stayed younger forever.

That fucking kid. Twat. Twerp. Sunshine.

It was ridiculous. They were ridiculous. And there was nothing romantic about it.

Brian sighed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He’d go to the gym and work out. Test his body. Stretch it to the limit. Lose himself in the physical moment. Then he’d take a steam. Maybe find a handy mouth to blow him.

And then he’d come back to the room and get ready for the Christmas Eve Party. HIS party. Radev might think it was his, but it wasn’t. It was Brian’s. And it was going to be perfect.

He was going to be perfect, too. He fingered the lapels of the vintage midnight blue Armani tux Ilona, his fashion pusher, had found for him in England on her most recent shopping trip. It fit him like it had been created just for him. Perfectly.

So Radev didn’t think he was a man? He’d show fucking Radev what he was made of! And show Tony Conway, too. And Larch and Keller. Gardner Vance. Jim Stockwell. And Joanie and Jack. All the people who had mocked him or thought he was worthless. The cops. The tricks. The homophobes. Even his friends. He’d fucking show them all!

He opened his Razr and listened to Justin’s last message one more time.

“I love you, Brian. And I’ll be waiting here for you when you come home.”

Brian flipped the cellphone shut and took a deep breath. 

“Hang in there, kid. I’ll be home soon.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I rarely put a warning on any of my fics.
> 
> That said – consider this a warning.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

“Son of a bitch,” mumbled Kenny Rikert as he walked, his head down. Two guys brushed against him, trying to pass on the narrow sidewalk. “Watch it!” he snarled.

“Sorry!” one of the men replied.

“Bastards. Goddamn bastards!” He watched the pair head down Liberty Avenue. Probably on their way to Babylon. Or Woody’s. “Faggots.”

Liberty Avenue. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Fuck it! He was already under suspension, so what could they do to him?

Suspension. That was a laugh! But Jim Stockwell would get him reinstated. Jim would do it. They were best buddies. Partners. Now he was the mayor, but he wouldn’t forget his old pal. Jim would remember all the things Kenny had done for him over the years. He’d remember what it had been like when they worked the streets together. When they’d been closer than brothers. Closer than...

Goddamn it! It was cold. He should go home. Or go to that bar across the tracks. See what was available. It was Christmas Eve, after all. A little company would be nice, even if it was paid-for company. So what? A mouth was a mouth, an ass was an ass. 

Rikert felt his cock stir.

Or maybe something right here. Right now.

He roamed up and down the street, his collar pulled up against the wind. He missed his uniform. His long, black leather coat. His badge. He was a cop, no matter what they said! A bunch of fucking busybodies, that’s what they were! That Carl Horvath was the worst of them. Always getting in his face. Always poking his fucking nose into his personal business. Horvath would find out. Rikert would wait for his chance, then he’d mess Horvath up good! He had a faggot stepson. Maybe Rikert would find the guy and show him a thing or two. Ha! That would teach him!

But in the meanwhile...

Rikert halted. A black Jeep Liberty. He knew that vehicle.

The little blond. He’d gotten a good, long look at him on Halloween in that angel get-up. Nothing but wings and underwear. Short and compact, just the way he liked them. Big lips. Just the thing to wrap around his cock. And a nice, round ass. A sweet little Christmas present. Just the ticket on a cold night.

But where was he? Rikert glanced up and down the street. In the bar? In the club? Or in the diner? Had to be one of those places. Well, he had time. All the time in the world. He slipped into the alley next to the Liberty Diner and leaned against the brick wall, waiting. But he didn’t have to wait very long.

The blond came out of the diner and looked up at the sky as he put on his gloves. The Jeep was only a few steps away, so Rikert would have to work fast.

“Hold it! Police!”

The punk stopped dead. His blue eyes were wide with surprise.

“Let’s see your I.D.! And hurry it up!”

He nodded and fumbled for his wallet. “I was just heading home, officer.” He paused and stared back at Rikert. “Sir.” But then he frowned. “Hey, wait a second. You’re on suspension! Carl told me!”

Rikert smiled a wolfish smile. What a coincidence. This must be Horvath’s faggot stepson. Of course! He’d just walked out of the diner where Horvath’s wife worked! What a perfect set-up!

“You – come with me!”

Before the punk had a chance to protest, Kenny Rikert seized him by the arm and dragged him into the alley. Pulled him back into the shadows next to the dumpster.

“Get on your knees!” Rikert ordered.

But the kid took a deep breath and said, “No fucking way!”

“I said, get on your knees!” Now Rikert was angry.

“I won’t!”

Rikert punched the little bastard in the gut, sending him to his knees, gasping. “You’ll do what I tell you to do!”

“No,” the punk whispered, his breath ragged. “I won’t.”

“I’ll teach you,” Rikert sneered. “You think you’re so special, with your blond hair and your tight ass. And you let that Kinney fuck you, don’t you? He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he? He’s an arrogant prick. Thinks he’s God’s fucking gift! And so do you! Well, you’re nothing but a piece of ass! That’s what you are! And I’m going to get some of that ass.” 

“No!”

The blond was doubled over, on his hands and knees in the muddy slush. Rikert grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him upright.

“You’re gonna blow me. Right here. Then you’re gonna do a lot more than that. You hear me?”

“I won’t.” The voice was small, but defiant. “Fuck you!”

Rikert didn’t like being contradicted. Most of the hustlers he picked up were respectful. Not like this little punk. “You’ll blow me and you’ll like it!”

He looked up, his blue eyes full of disgust. “If you put your ugly dick in my mouth, I’ll bite it off!”

Goddamn it! Rikert lashed out with his fist, but the little bastard ducked, trying to crawl away. That’s when Rikert pulled out his revolver. It was on safety, but he didn’t know that. Now he’d behave. Now he’d show a little respect to Sergeant Kenneth Rikert!

“Freeze, bitch!” said Rikert. “You’ll do what I say and everything I say!”

“No!” The blond punched at him, knocking his hand away. And Rikert brought the butt of the revolver down on him, catching his upraised hand.

“Brian! Help!” the kid cried out. “Help me! Carl!”

Rikert looked around furtively. That’s all he needed was for Carl Horvath to show up. Or the kid’s boyfriend. They must be nearby. Shit! They were probably in the diner! They might hear him calling for help! 

“Shut your mouth!” Rikert brought the revolver down on his head to silence him. “Shut the fuck up!” And again. And once again. Until the blond was still in the cold mud.

Rikert nudged him with his foot. He didn’t move.

Now Rikert began to panic. He looked up. The dumpster.

Just like last time. That young hustler had freaked out and before Rikert knew what he was doing, he had his fingers around his scrawny neck. Squeezing it. Until the hustler stopped struggling. Stopped moving. Then he went into the dumpster, like the trash that he was. It was as simple as that.

Rikert put his revolver back in its holster and leaned down. He tried dragging the kid, but his head flopped around like a rag doll. He felt something wet.

It was blood. Blood on his hands.

Rikert let go. He had to get the fuck out of there! And fast!

He dropped the body and ran.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian gets a call.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

Everything was perfect.

The tasteful, not-too-Christmasy decor. The carefully chosen music from the jazz trio. The selection of spicy Thai finger-food. The open bar manned by The Maxim’s hunkiest bartenders. And the guests – a mix of elegant, wealthy older men, hot, successful guys in their late twenties and thirties, and a smattering of prime twinks who knew how to behave in adult company.

“Swell, Brian! Just swell!” Tony Conway was practically having an orgasm he was so pleased with the way the weekend was going. Even his persnickety partner, Mark, seemed to be enjoying himself. “Everyone is commenting on this event.” He took out a handful of business cards. “Look at these! All guys wanting me to contact them about future work! And they all want to know who our new associate is. You’re creating quite a buzz!”

“Of course.” Brian smoothed his Armani tuxedo jacket. “I made certain every detail was taken care of. That’s the kind of work I do. I told you this party would be exemplary, and I meant it.”

Tony squeezed Brian’s arm. “This event is going to take us to a whole new level! Dan and Jon and I have been discussing the possibility of opening an office in either New York or L.A. for a while now. I think it’s time to make that move. And you might be the perfect person to help us go there.”

Brian sighed. He’d heard that New York talk before from Gardner Vance. But that’s all it turned out to be – talk.

“Let me get settled in San Francisco first. I haven’t even found a place to live here and you’re already moving me all over the fucking country!”

Tony laughed in his braying way as he slapped Brian on the back. “This is big, Brian! Radev’s business alone is going to put us on the level of some of the mainstream public relations agencies, let alone the niche market firms. With more businesses coming out of the closet we’re in an ideal position to corner that market! And also to go for some straight businesses that have a large gay clientele. MTV is planning to start up a gay-themed cable channel, sort of a Queer VH-1. We’d be perfect to do their P.R.! That’s why we need to expand out of San Francisco and start playing with the big boys!”

Brian shook his head. He had no illusions that Tony Conway and his partners were anywhere near ready to play with the big boys in markets like Los Angeles or New York. But it was something to shoot for.

But Tony was right about one thing – this series of holiday events at The Maxim was a step in the right direction. Stefan Radev’s hotels and resorts were international, and if he decided to get into the gay cruise business, that would be another move into a larger and tougher, but also more lucrative world.

But besides the accolades he was getting for the holiday events, Brian was also attracting a lot of attention personally. In fact, he hadn’t been cruised so heavily since his last P-Town Party.

He held his head a little higher and straightened his shoulders, preening a bit. Why not? He deserved it. It was good to be admired. It made him feel that even if he was over 30, he wasn’t exactly over the hill. He was still hot. He could still attract any man he wanted. His ego needed that boost.

His fucking ego. Yes, his ego loved the attention. But something else inside knew it was a hollow victory.

“I must thank you.” Radev sidled up next to Brian as he watched the trio play. Radev was holding a flute of champagne. “My party is a huge success. The music is especially good. I love Cole Porter.”

“Actually, that’s a Billy Strayhorn tune they’re playing,” said Brian. He took a sip of his double Absolut. After getting smashed the night before, he was pacing himself carefully. It would be too easy to fall into a pattern of over-indulging out of sheer ennui. Or to fall back on getting drunk as a part of the Kinney Legacy of pain management. Except he wasn’t in pain. Why should he be? Things were going perfectly! Everyone said so!

“Ah,” Radev said, nodding. “I stand corrected. I am not such an expert on American music.”

Brian shrugged. “I’m better with The Velvet Underground or The Cure, but I also enjoy jazz, especially Miles Davis. Thelonious Monk. Old School Be-bop. That kind of thing.”

“Perhaps you might tutor me?” Radev suggested. “Privately.”

This guy never gave up! “I don’t think so.”

“It is always worth trying,” Radev replied. “That is how I have gotten where I am – always trying. I imagine it is the same with you, Brian. We are alike in that.”

“You could say that about many successful people,” Brian returned. “I keep trying because I refuse to go back to where I was or what I was. I have to move forward. It’s the only way.”

“Like a shark,” Radev observed. “It must move ahead or die.”

Brian kept his eyes on the musicians. “It takes one to know one.”

Radev smiled. “Touché, my beautiful friend.”

Brian felt his phone vibrate in his inside pocket. “Excuse me.” He turned away and took out the cell. But it wasn’t Justin. It was Michael. Probably giving Brian an update on how Ben and Hunter were doing. Or else wanting to ream him out for missing Christmas. He let it go to voicemail. He’d deal with Mikey tomorrow.

“Your lover?” Radev was right next to him.

“No. My oldest friend. I’ll call him back later.”

“It is difficult to be far from home and family on the holidays.” Radev took a French cigarette from his case. He offered one to Brian, but Brian declined.

“It’s no problem. I’m used to being alone,” Brian stated. And it had always been true. He was used to solitude. And he had always pretended that he liked it. The Lone Wolf. Always walking his own way, on his own terms. Brian Kinney, who didn’t need anyone else to survive. Who never let another heart touch his own. 

Except it was a lie. A lie that was more obvious every day he was away from home. And away from Justin.

Brian walked away from Radev. He didn’t need to deal with his bullshit tonight, even if he was the client. He eyed one of the waiters, a dark-haired, blue-eyed specimen with a sullen pout. Brian needed something quick and easy. Something to make him forget he was lonely. To forget it was Christmas Eve and there was somewhere else he’d rather be.

The cell began to vibrate again. It felt like an urgent bee next to his heart. He took the Razr out and looked at it. Mikey again. He really must want to talk. But this wasn’t the time or the place. Brian shoved it back into his jacket.

He looked around, but didn’t see the pouty waiter. It didn’t matter – he didn’t matter. Guys like the waiter were like buses – another would come by in a few minutes. The only thing that mattered was the ride.

Brian made a circle around the room, making certain that every station was going smoothly. Bar. Food. Music. Servers circulating. He even checked the men’s room to see if there was any activity in there holding up the line. Ordinarily he’d be the one holding up the line, but tonight things needed to move along. This wasn’t Babylon. Or Inferno. This was a classy party. He didn’t mind guys hooking up, but this wasn’t the place for sex in the toilets.

Jesus, thought Brian. Look at me! Now I’m the fucking sex police. Forget that shit!

He went to get another drink. Another double Absolut, straight up.

“Brian,” said Tony Conway, touching his shoulder. “There’s a call for you in the hotel office.”

Brian set down his glass. “A call?”

“Yes.” Tony’s face was serious. “It’s from a Michael Novotny in Pittsburgh. He says it’s an emergency.”

Brian swallowed. “Shit,” he whispered. And then he went to take the call.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Racing through the night.

San Francisco, December 2005

 

Tony Conway was standing by the bar with his two business partners, Dan Larch and Jon Keller, and their biggest client, Stefan Radev, overseeing The Maxim ballroom and grinning broadly. Everything was going swell! Really, really swell! People would be talking about this party for a long time, which was not only good news for Radev’s hotel, but also for their P.R. firm. 

“I wish to meet with you and Brian during the week,” said Radev. “I want to make plans for the White Party in Palm Springs, as well as discussing expanding into the gay cruise market. I believe Brian has some good ideas for some promotions we might consider.”

“Of course!” Jon piped up. “I have a lot of contacts in the entertainment industry. I can get you some really good gay talent for a cruise. What do you think about Cheyenne Jackson? He’s hot and I bet we can book him – that is if he’s not in a show.” 

Radev flicked an ash off his cigarette. “I am not familiar with Mr. Jackson, but I will ask Brian about him. I prefer to leave such details to you. But I want everything to be done with class, like this party. I wish to establish a high-end profile.”

Dan Larch nodded and slowly sipped a glass of milk. His ulcer was acting up. It always acted up during the holidays. Or any time there was stress. Which was all the time. “It’ll be expensive, but worth it in the long run, I think. If you make a name for yourself as an ultra-exclusive service provider, you can attract travellers who might ordinarily think cruises are beneath them. That’s not a huge market, but it’s an influential one.”

“I am not interested in making huge amounts of money at first,” said Radev. “I want to establish a brand. I want ‘Radev Resorts’ to be synonymous with quality.”

“What about using Vangard to do your advertising?” Dan suggested. “We’ve worked with them in the past.”

Radev curled his lip in distaste. “No. Not Vangard. Another agency. Let me think about who would be the best.”

“Sure,” said Tony, nudging his partner in the side. Dan obviously forgot that Brian had been dumped by Gardner Vance, and since Radev had a hard-on for Brian, that would be a touchy subject. “You’re the boss, Stefan! And speaking of Brian – here he comes. Brian! Over here!” He waved Brian over to the bar.

But one look at his face told them all that something was terribly wrong.

“I have to go,” Brian said in an unsteady voice. He was ashen and his eyes were red. “I need to get to the airport as soon as possible!”

“Good God, what happened?” asked Tony.

Brian gazed at the men, his expression lost. “I just got a call from home. Justin’s in the hospital. He was attacked! They don’t know how bad it is, but he’s unconscious. I have to get back to Pittsburgh!” 

Tony was puzzled. “Justin? Who’s Justin?”

“His lover,” stated Radev. “A moment, please.” Radev turned away and took out his cellphone.

“Lover?” Tony repeated. “Since when do you have a lover, Brian? I thought you were the last of the Swinging Singles!”

“Shut up, Tony!” said Dan. He touched Brian’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the airport.”

“Thank you,” Brian breathed. “I can’t believe someone would hurt Justin! I need to get home! I need to be there!”

“It is taken care of,” Radev announced. “My jet is waiting. I will take you to the airport.”

“Why is this happening?” Brian said. “Michael said he was going home when he was attacked! Who would do that? He didn’t have an enemy in the world! Everyone loves Justin!”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” said Jon. But he and Dan exchanged worried glances. This sounded bad. Like a gay bashing.

“I should have been there!” Brian proclaimed. “Protecting him! Instead, I’m here! Christ! What the fuck am I going to do?”

Radev gently took Brian’s arm. “Come, my friend. We must go now. You will be there in a few hours.”

Brian felt numb as he allowed himself to be guided into Radev’s limo. The rain had lifted and it was a clear, cool evening in San Francisco. But Brian couldn’t see anything but Justin’s face.

“My jet will take you to Pittsburgh. My pilot is filing the flight plan as we speak,” said Radev. “A car will be waiting to take you directly to the hospital. Do you know where he is being treated?”

Brian nodded. “Allegheny General. The same place Gus was born.”

“Everything will be taken care of,” Radev reassured him. “You need not worry. I suggest you sleep on the plane.”

“Sleep?” Brian snapped. “How the fuck can I sleep when Justin might be dying?”

“You will need your rest,” Radev replied calmly. “And your lover will need you to be clear-headed. You must not waver, Brian. I know that is difficult, but you must keep your emotions under control.”

“I know,” Brian whispered. “But what if I can’t? What if I can’t handle it?”

“You can,” Radev counseled. “And you must. For his sake.”

Brian drew a deep breath. His hands were shaking. “Why are you doing all this? After I... I rejected you? After I’ve been a asshole to you?”

Radev shrugged. “That is no matter. I still admire you, even if only as a friend. And I hope we can be friends. The truth is that I have been in your position. Many years ago. But I still remember as clearly as if it were yesterday.”

Brian stared at Radev. “You had a lover who was bashed?”

“No,” Radev replied. “Not bashed. But in the hospital in grave condition. I know what it is like to travel from far away, hoping the person you love will still be alive when you arrive. Then sitting in a room, waiting. Wondering. Hoping.”

“Your lover,” said Brian. “What happened to him?”

“Maxim. He died,” Radev stated simply. “He had been ill for a long time. I thought he was getting better, so I went away on business. Maxim was the one who owned the first hotel in Key West. He started his little empire back in the 1970’s. We met in West Berlin, where he was on holiday. He was older. Much older, in fact. And I... I was a young and lovely Bulgarian boy who had escaped my homeland and was making my way in the world, using the only thing I had of any value. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes.” Brian swallowed. “You were hustling.”

“Just so.” Radev searched Brian’s face and saw something there he recognized. “I can see we have this in common.”

“It’s not something I’m proud of,” Brian asserted. “I was only 16. I did it to survive.”

“As did I,” Radev said matter-of-factly. “I met Maxim in the Tiergarten, right next to the Siegesäule, the Victory Pillar! The most phallic place in Berlin! Maxim always thought that was amusing. He took me back to his hotel and told me he loved me that same night. I thought he was a mad man. But he was correct, as he always was. He did love me. And I loved him, right until the end. I reached the hospital an hour before he died. That was 14 years ago. He left me everything he had. And I have added to that fortune since then. More hotels. More investments. Much, much more money. I am a good businessman. Maxim chose well when he picked up a tough, but terrified boy in that beautiful park in Berlin on a warm May night so very long ago.”

“You still love him,” Brian said.

“Yes,” Radev admitted. “You love like that only once in your life. It is a gift from the Gods. Since then I have found sex and companionship in many places, but never love. That place in my heart is already taken. As is yours.”

Brian tried to blink back the tears, but he couldn’t. “What if he dies? What if... if he’s already dead?”

Radev shook his head sadly. “Then he will still be with you, my beautiful friend. He will watch over you from above. Like an angel.”

“My God! Justin!” cried Brian. 

And he put his head in his hands and sobbed like a child as the limo sped through the dark night.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian in full flight.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Brian tried to sleep on the plane, but it was useless.

The steward, a sandy-haired gym bunny in a trim blue uniform, turned down the seats and made up a bed. Then he brought Brian some herbal tea with a shot of whiskey on the side. He drank it, but it only took the edge off his anxiety. What he wanted was something to destroy it, to annihilate it, to drive it into oblivion. To drive him into oblivion. He only knew of one thing that would do that to the extent he needed it, and there was no China White on Stefan Radev’s private jet.

It’s just as well, thought Brian. The last thing I need is to fuck myself up completely. To stumble up to Justin’s bedside stoned out of my mind. That would be a good one, Kinney.

A good one.

The steward, whose name, improbably enough, was Felix, hovered around, offering various services, until Brian, who wasn’t in any mood for his attentions, rolled over and pretended to go to sleep.

Pretending. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

What the fuck was he going to do? Michael had been maddeningly vague about what exactly had happened to Justin. He’d been on his way home from the Watermark and stopped at the diner. But then something happened to him after he left there. He’d been attacked, but Brian wasn’t certain if that had taken place on Liberty Avenue or somewhere else. The connection had been miserable and Michael’s voice kept breaking up.

But one thing was clear...

“Hurry!” Michael said.

Hurry!

What did that mean? Only one thing, as far as Brian was concerned. Justin was hurt. And it was bad. Very, very bad.

Brian sat up. The cabin was dim and the only sound was the hum of the engines. 

“Is there anything you want, Mr. Kinney?” Felix was right there, his face full of concern.

“No,” said Brian, rubbing his burning eyes. “How long before we get to Pittsburgh?”

“At least another two hours, depending on the weather. Can I get you something to eat? Or more herbal tea?”

Yeah, a bottle of Jack Daniels, a hit of smack, suck my dick.

“No, really. Thanks. I’m fine.”

But I’m not fine. You can’t give me what I really want.

Justin.

Brian lay in the bed and stared up at the ceiling of the jet. He closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, the plane was about to land.

 

***

 

As Radev had promised, a car and driver were waiting for Brian at the airport. The driver opened the door and he got into the backseat. He realized that he had no luggage. He didn’t even have a topcoat. Everything was still in his room at The Maxim. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

The car took him directly to Allegheny General.

The first person he saw when he walked into the lobby was Michael, who was coming out of the gift shop with a newspaper in his hand.

“Brian! I can’t believe you got here so fast!” Michael put his arms around his friend and held him tightly.

“How’s Justin? What floor is he on?”

Michael bit his lip. “He’s in the ICU. Last report said he was stable, whatever that means.”

“Is he conscious? How badly is he injured? What do the doctors say?”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t know, Brian. I can’t tell you any more.”

Brian stared at Michael in disbelief. “What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know?”

“His father,” Michael explained. “He won’t let us see Justin. He’s given orders that no one can see him except members of the immediate family. They wouldn’t even let Ma in. She’s up in a waiting room, but that’s as close as we can get.” Michael paused. “Craig Taylor left special orders that you weren’t to be allowed anywhere near Justin. I’m sorry.”

“What about Jennifer?” Brian asked. “Justin’s mother wouldn’t stop us from seeing him!”

“I haven’t seen her,” said Michael. “She’s probably in the ICU, at Justin’s bedside. But it’s her husband who’s calling the shots. And he won’t let you in. Period!”

“But I have to see him!” Brian’s mind was racing. “This is total bullshit! I’m his partner!”

“According to the laws of Family Friendly Pittsburgh, you aren’t anyone,” Michael reminded him. “None of us are anyone.”

“But Justin could be... he could be dying.” Brian’s voice fell to a hoarse whisper. “I have to be there with him!”

“There’s nothing you can do!” Michael asserted. “Ma tried everything. Justin’s father threatened to have her arrested!”

“Fuck!” Brian cried. A security guard looked over at the pair and frowned. “Where’s Carl? Can’t he do anything?”

“He’s out with the cops, looking for the guy who did this.”

“Who was it?” Brian demanded. “Who were the fuckers who did it?”

“I don’t know,” said Michael. “But Carl saw the guy. It was either chase him or help Justin. So he called for back-up and stayed with Justin until the ambulance arrived. But he told Ma he recognized the guy. He said they’d get him.”

Brian’s head was pounding. Carl recognized him. Who was it? Who would do such a thing? “Where did it happen?”

Michael took a deep breath. “Right outside the diner. In that little alley where the dumpster is. The guy must have grabbed Justin and taken him back there. He hit him with something. He beat him pretty badly. Carl said that... that Justin was covered with blood.”

“Christ!” Brian cried. “I have to get up there and see him! Now!”

Michael took Brian by the shoulders. “I already told you! They won’t let you in! They won’t let any of us in!”

“I don’t give a fuck what they say!” Brian pushed Michael away and headed toward the elevators. “I’m going up there! And I’m going to see Justin! Let them try and stop me!”


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Fucking Christmas!

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Before Michael could stop him, Brian jumped into an elevator. The door closed and it went up.

The Intensive Care Unit seemed hushed compared to the bustling, businesslike atmosphere of the rest of the hospital. The nurses’ station was quiet this early in the morning. A miniature Christmas tree twinkled on the desk, while a green plastic wreath proclaimed ‘Merry Christmas!’ from the wall.

It’s Christmas, thought Brian. I completely forgot.

Fucking Christmas!

Our anniversary.

He closed his eyes and steadied himself. 

“Excuse me. I need to see Justin Taylor.”

The nurse looked up at him from behind the desk. “May I help you, sir?”

“I said I need to see Justin Taylor,” Brian repeated. “My partner. I know he’s here! I have to see him!”

The nurse frowned. “And you are?”

“His partner!” The words came out louder than Brian had intended and they echoed through the corridors. “I’m Brian Kinney. I just came in from San Francisco. I flew all night! And now I need to see Justin!”

The woman stood up and backed away from the desk. She looked around nervously. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kinney, but the patient isn’t allowed any visitors.”

“Please call Jennifer Taylor,” Brian pleaded. “I know she’s here. She’ll let me see him!”

“I think you better leave now,” said the nurse. She reached for the telephone.

An elevator opened on the floor and Michael rushed out. “Brian! What’s going on?”

He turned to his friend. “They won’t let me see Justin! It’s fucking bullshit!” 

“Please leave,” the nurse said firmly. “Now! I’ve already called security!”

Michael touched Brian’s arm. “Come down to the waiting room at the end of the hall. That’s where Ma is. They’ll let us sit in there.”

“I don’t want to sit in some fucking waiting room!” Brian blasted. “I want to see Justin! I NEED to see Justin!” Brian glanced around. “Where is he? Which room is he in?”

Another nurse appeared and blocked Brian’s way. “I must ask you to leave, sir.”

“Fuck you!” Brian countered. “I’m seeing my partner if I have to tear this fucking place upside down!”

Two men in scrubs came out of a room. “What’s all this racket?” asked the shorter, older man.

“Dr. Bentley, this is Mr. Kinney,” said the nurse behind the desk. “He insists on seeing Justin Taylor.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the doctor. “The Taylor family isn’t allowing any outside visitors. Justin Taylor has been very seriously injured and it would be better for him if there were no disruptions.”

“So you think I’m a disruption?” Brian felt his blood rising. “I’m his fucking partner! We live together! He’s not a child! He’s 23 years old! He would want me there... next to him. Is he awake? Tell me that much!”

The doctor looked grim. “He’s still unconscious. We’re monitoring his condition. There’s nothing you can do for your... your friend right now. I suggest you go home and wait for further developments.”

Brian leaned towards the doctor as Michael grabbed his arm and tried to hold him back. “You want me to go home? Are you fucking INSANE? I have to be here! What if Justin wakes up and I’m not there? Not next to him? What if he wakes up and I’m not... not holding his hand? What will he think? How will he feel?”

“I’m sorry, but only family is permitted,” Dr. Bentley pronounced. 

“I’m his fucking family!” Brian shouted. “Don’t you understand, you fucking homophobic bastard!”

Hearing Brian’s voice, Debbie came out of the waiting room and hurried up the hallway. “Brian! You got here!”

“They won’t let him in, Ma,” said Michael. “They won’t let him see Justin.”

“So what the fuck else is new? Please,” Debbie begged the doctor. “If he knows Brian is here, I’m sure Sunshine will wake up! All he has to do is hear Brian’s voice!”

“It’s not that simple,” said the doctor. “The boy can’t hear anything. He’s in a coma.”

The elevator door opened again and two security guards got off, followed by a Pittsburgh PD cop. “What’s going on here? We’ve had a report of a disturbance.”

“That’s the man!” The nurse behind the desk pointed at Brian. “He refuses to leave the floor!”

“Come on, sir,” said the cop. The two security guards puffed themselves up behind him. “It’s time to go.”

But Brian turned away from them. “Where’s Jennifer Taylor? I want to speak with her! Jennifer! Can you hear me? You know Justin would want to see me!”

“That’s enough!” the cop roared. “There are sick people here!”

“What the hell is going on?” Craig Taylor came out of one of the side rooms and glared at Brian. “This is the man I told you about, Dr. Bentley. I knew he’d come here and cause trouble!”

“I’m not causing trouble,” Brian insisted. “I only want to see my partner. I have a right to see him!”

“You have no right to do anything!” Craig sneered. “You’re the reason Justin was almost killed! You and your disgusting lifestyle! Justin wouldn’t have been wandering around Liberty Avenue in the middle of the night if you hadn’t corrupted him! He wouldn’t have been attacked by some pervert! Or should I say, some OTHER pervert, since you’re the first pervert who had your filthy way with him!”

Brian looked at Debbie and Michael. “Was... was Justin sexually assaulted? Is that what happened?”

Debbie shook her head. “We don’t know, honey! No one will tell us anything!”

“Just let me see Justin!” Brian begged Craig Taylor. “For two fucking seconds!”

“Officer!” Craig shouted. “Are you going to get this man out of here?” 

“Brian! Come with me and Ma!” Michael implored. “Please? We’ll come back later. We’ll figure out a way to see Justin! Carl will think of something!”

“Forget it, Mikey!” Brian spat at Craig. “This supercilious fucker will never let me see him!” 

“Officer?” Craig turned to the cop. “Are you going to do your duty and remove this pervert?”

“Okay. That’s enough!” the cop nodded. “If you don’t come along now, sir, we’ll have to cuff you.”

“Then do it!” Brian said defiantly. “Fuck you! Because I’m not leaving here voluntarily!”

The two security guards seized Brian by the arms and the cop cuffed his hands behind his back.

“Is that really necessary, officer?” Debbie asked as they dragged Brian towards the elevators. “Do you have to arrest him? I’m Debbie Horvath. My husband is Lt. Carl Horvath.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Horvath,” said the cop. “But we’re taking this man downtown. And I suggest you and the other gentleman go home, too. These people obviously don’t want you here.”

“That’s an understatement!” Craig snorted. “I want you freaks to leave me and my family alone! Because you’re never going to see Justin again if I have anything to say about it!” And Craig turned and marched back into the ICU.

“Don’t worry, Brian!” Michael called. “We’ll call Carl! And Melanie! We’ll get you out as soon as we can!”

“Yeah, right, Mikey,” said Brian right before the elevator doors closed. “Oh – and Merry fucking Christmas!”


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the slammer.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Brian expected to be taken down into the bowels of the old police headquarters, to the infamous Queens Tank, so he was surprised when the receiving officer deposited him in the general holding cell on the first floor.

Fucking Christmas! Brian was surrounded by disheveled drunks sleeping off their Christmas Eve benders, well-dressed DUI’s slumped sullenly in the corners, and a couple of domestic violence arrests – one man’s face had been split open down the side, as if his significant other had given as good as she’d gotten. That’s what the holidays brought out in people – drowning your sorrows and taking a hard shot at the wife and kids. At least that was his own experience of Christmas. And it seemed to be a lot of other people’s, too.

He thought about the Old Man. Fucking worm food, that’s what he was now. What had been the point of his life? Jack was born, grew up, fucked up other people’s lives, mainly his children’s, and then he died, painfully and miserably. And now he was forgotten. Well, mainly forgotten by anyone but Joanie and Claire.

Fathers. What shitty things they were! His own and now Justin’s. Goddamn Craig Taylor! That bastard would try to make certain that Brian never saw Justin again. And what if Justin never woke up? What if he died? Or, even worse, spent the rest of his life with some tube keeping him alive, like a fucking science project! It would be like Craig to do that. To play the martyr with a son who was nothing more than a vegetable. Craig and Joanie should get together. They have a lot in common. They don’t give a shit about your life while you’re living it, but they also want to make sure that you don’t leave it until THEY say so! Talk about the ultimate control freaks!

But Justin might die without me seeing him again, thought Brian. Without me ever touching him again. It could happen any second. It could already have happened while I’m sitting here.

Brian leaned back against the cement wall of the cell and stared up. There was a barred window high above, near the ceiling. A weak stream of light was filtering in through the dirty glass, telling Brian that it was still day. Christmas Day.

A year ago he’d been ready to end it all. Maybe he should have! Craig was right – Justin probably wouldn’t have been bashed if he’d never met Brian. Maybe he’d be living at home, working for his father. His family might still be in one piece. But he’d be in the fucking closet! Hiding who he was, and what he was. Living a fucking lie!

But Justin would be safe. Not lying in a hospital with his fucking head bashed in by some lunatic!

If Justin died Brian knew what he had to do. 

He’d already thought about it many times before. Even planned it out. Once he’d tried scarfing, leaving it to Fate to decide if he lived or died. But Mikey had burst into the loft at the last moment and pulled him down from the rafters. Well, Fate certainly had decided that one. And Fate had decided about the cancer, too. He’d had his ticket to Ibiza all ready. One big drug-and-booze-fueled fuckathon and then end it all in a beautiful spot, surrounded by beautiful men. But at the last minute he changed his reservations for Baltimore and ended up with his ball being sliced and diced at Johns Hopkins instead. 

And then, one year ago, Justin had stopped him from taking the easy way out. The coward’s way out. He’d been a fucking mope, depressed and feeling sorry for himself. Ready to do something really stupid. But Justin had saved his life. There was no other way to look at it.

Angel of Mercy.

But if Justin lived, then no power in hell – not Craig Taylor, not the hospital, not Jim Stockwell or the entire fucking police department of Pittsburgh, PA – could keep him from being with Justin again. Nothing could keep them from being together.

Nothing.

Shit.

Brian wiped the tears away, afraid someone would see them. But no one in the cell gave a shit. They were all too wrapped up in their own misery to care that some asshole in a wrinkled vintage Armani tux was crying like a fucking girl!

If Justin died, then he would follow him. It was the only way. Otherwise, what was the fucking point?

There was no fucking point.

“Kinney?” A cop opened the cell door. One of the drunks stirred, but no one else moved or even looked up. “Is there a Brian Kinney in here?”

Brian stood up and carefully straightened his tuxedo jacket. He knew he looked like hell, but he didn’t want to dishonor the once-beautiful suit. “I’m Brian Kinney.”

“Step to the front.” The cop took in the tux and made a face. “This way, Kinney.”

Brian followed the cop. He wasn’t all that surprised to see Carl Horvath standing in the corridor, waiting for him. His face was somber.

“Springing you from this joint was the last thing on my Christmas agenda,” Carl commented.

Brian shrugged. “You know how it goes.”

Carl gave Brian a sour glance. “Did you have to make a big scene at the hospital? Poor Deb is home crying her eyes out because they won’t let her back in!”

“What was she sitting there for?” Brian said bleakly. “They won’t let her see Justin any more than they’ll let me see him. It’s fucking useless!”

“But she wanted to be there,” said Carl. “It made her feel good. And she was praying, too. Saying the rosary for him.”

Brian sniffed. “She can pray at home. Or go to church. But it’s still useless! All the fucking prayers in the world didn’t bring Vic back. And they won’t help Justin, either.”

“Maybe not,” Carl agreed. “But they make Debbie feel better and that’s all I care about. Come on.” Carl headed for the front entrance of the building.

Brian balked. “What about my arrest?”

“Your arrest didn’t happen,” Carl said blandly. “Don’t ask a bunch of stupid questions. Just come with me.”

“Where are we going?” They stepped outside into the blinding afternoon light. It was freezing in Pittsburgh and Brian had no overcoat.

“Home,” said Carl.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence in the loft.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Brian waited until they were halfway to the loft to ask the question that had been playing on his mind.

“So, Michael said you were out looking for the guy who did it. He says you saw him. You know who it is. Is that true?”

Carl nodded, his eyes on the road. “I was sitting in the diner, keeping Deb company on Christmas Eve, when Justin came in. He just got off work. He wanted a couple of lemon squares to take home. That’s when I told him about Kenny Rikert being suspended.”

Brian frowned at Carl. “Who?”

“A cop. Jim Stockwell’s ex-partner. The guy... he was a bad cop. He’d been harassing gay men on Liberty Avenue. Justin says he stopped you two on Halloween.”

“Shit,” Brian breathed. “I remember him. He’d stopped Justin before and asked for his ID. That’s the guy who did it? Are you certain?”

“I’m certain,” said Carl. “Justin left the diner without his lemon squares, so Deb sent me after him. I... I heard someone yelling for help from the alley. I started running and a man nearly knocked me over. It was Rikert. I tried to hold onto him, but I couldn’t. I knew immediately that he’d done something to Justin. He’d been stalking him. Justin fit the profile – young, slender, blond. Just what Rikert liked.”

“Wait!” Brian’s head was spinning. “This guy was stalking Justin? How do you know?”

“Justin told me when I saw him on the street a few weeks ago,” Carl explained. “Rikert had been warned away from Liberty Avenue, but I saw him there. Then I saw Justin and he told me about the guy stopping him more than once. Like I say, Justin fit the profile of what Rikert liked. He was known for picking up hustlers, all of them young blonds. And... this is hard to say, but he was suspected in the murder of a young hustler a few years ago. The one who was found in the dumpster down the street. I was investigating that murder when I met Deb. But Stockwell, who was the Chief back then, killed the investigation. Rikert was forced into retirement, but when Stockwell became mayor he brought him back and put him on the street.”

“Goddamn!” Brian swore. “And this is the police force that’s supposed to protect us? This is Stockwell’s Family Friendly Pittsburgh? It’s bullshit, Carl! The cops are rounding up queers for kissing on the street, while other cops are fucking and then killing other queers? Do you know how fucked up that is?”

“I agree,” said Carl. “And I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t Justin tell me he was being stalked?” Brian’s voice rose. “Or more to the point – why the fuck didn’t YOU tell me?”

“I thought you knew,” Carl replied. “I thought Justin told you everything. What can I say? Justin obviously didn’t want you to worry about him. He thought he could take care of himself. But Rikert... he was a psychopath. I know I’m at fault. The whole police force – and that includes Stockwell – is at fault. What can I do? It won’t change what’s happened.”

Brian slammed his hand against the dashboard in frustration. “And I suppose that murdering bastard will get off again! That fucking Stockwell will come to his rescue! That’s bullshit, Carl! Total bullshit!”

Carl pulled his car up in front of Brian’s building. “Rikert won’t get away. He didn’t get away. We went to his house this morning to arrest him. He was dead. Shot himself in the head with his service revolver.”

“Dead,” Brian repeated. “That saves me the trouble of killing him.”

“Listen,” Carl warned. “The department is going to take care of this. Stockwell isn’t going to get off on this one. He allowed Rikert to run loose and he’s as responsible as anyone for what happened to Justin. I’m ready to retire, Brian, but I’m not leaving the force until this matter is settled. It’s my last duty as an officer of the law in the Pittsburgh PD. I promise you that. And I promise Justin.”

“Yeah!” Brian coughed. “I take a lot of fucking comfort in that! The law and the Pittsburgh PD!”

“I give you my word,” said Carl. “That’s all I can do.”

Carl went into the building with Brian and they rode up the elevator in silence. Brian was still digesting everything Carl had told him. It was unbelievable! But he knew Carl had told him the truth. And that truth was too painful for him to accept.

Justin wanted to be a man. To pull his own weight and take care of himself. He and Brian – equals. He was too brave for his own good. Too fucking brave!

But at what cost? His life? His health? And if he got better, would he ever be the same? Because Brian knew that he would never be the same. Never.

Brian unlocked the door and pulled it back. The first thing he saw was a scraggly little Christmas tree, sitting on top of his fucking Mies van der Rohe coffee table. Brian walked over to it and fingered one of the branches, a strand of tinsel hanging from it. 

“Go home, Carl,” said Brian. “Debbie must be waiting for you. You don’t want to ruin her Christmas dinner.”

“Come with me,” Carl urged. “Don’t stay here alone.”

“I’m used to being alone,” Brian replied. “Remember? Brian Fucking Kinney! The Lone Wolf! The Cat Who Walks By Himself. It’s my natural condition.”

“Please,” said Carl. “Come back home with me. Have something to eat. Emmett is helping Deb with dinner. And Ted’ll be there, too, of course.”

“You guys have fun.” Brian walked Carl to the door. “I have big plans. Things to think about. Things to arrange.”

“Stay away from that hospital,” said Carl. “I don’t want to have to spring you twice in one day.”

“I’ll take that under consideration.” Brian opened the door. “Tell Deb ‘Merry Christmas’ from me.”

“I almost forgot.” Carl took something out of his pocket. “This was found on the sidewalk, next to the Jeep. It’s still parked over on Liberty Avenue, by the way, so you might want to pick it up. And you’ll need this.”

Carl put the small object into Brian’s hand. A ‘Yellow Submarine’ key-ring.

Brian’s fingers closed around it. “Oh, God! He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

“No,” said Carl firmly. “I don’t think so. Justin is a fighter – and so are you. One thing I’ve learned from living with Debbie is that you fags are tough. Tougher than I’d ever have believed. You have to be in order to put up with the shit the world sends your way. What’s that song Debbie is always playing? ‘I Will Survive’?”

“Not that!” said Brian. “Anything but that fucking song! It’s enough to turn me straight!”

Carl put his hand on Brian’s shoulder. “I don’t think so. But the song is right. I think you will survive. You both will. So keep strong, Brian. That kid is going to need you – almost as much as you need him.”

After Carl left Brian wandered around the loft. He turned on the white lights Justin had strung all over the room. And he plugged in the lights on the little tree on the coffee table. Then he sat and stared at it until it got dark outside.

He took off his clothes and carefully folded the Armani tux. Then he took a long, hot shower. Afterwards, he tried to eat a piece of toast, but his stomach was churning and he couldn’t keep it down. So he downed a glass of milk, poured himself a tumbler of Jim Beam, and stood by the window, drinking and smoking and watching the snow begin to fall.

It was getting late and Christmas was almost over.

Justin loved the snow. He loved watching it fall. He loved the city when it turned white and quiet and beautiful in the middle of the night. He said that when he was a child the snowflakes reminded him of angel’s wings.

“Angel’s wings,” Brian whispered. But then he couldn’t whisper anymore. “Justin!” he called out as loudly as he could. “Justin!”


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer prays.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

It had been a long time since Jennifer Taylor had prayed. Maybe not since she was a little girl, asking God for a new doll, or to get the teacher she wanted for Third Grade. Or to ask that her Mom stop drinking and acting so weird all the time and to just be normal. The first two things had been easy for God to deliver, but the last... well, she was still waiting for that.

She didn’t remember if she had prayed to let Craig Taylor fall in love with her, or ask her to marry him. She never even thought of it by then. She thought she was finished with prayers, finished with God.

But obviously God wasn’t finished with her.

“Please,” she begged as she sat by Justin’s bedside in the ICU. “Don’t take my beautiful son! Please! He has his whole life ahead of him. I know I’ve made mistakes – both Craig and I have made a lot of mistakes! – but I promise I’ll take better care of him in the future. Love him more. Respect him more.” Jennifer paused and gazed at Justin’s pale, bruised face. “Let him be the person he is and not the person I want him to be. If I could take back this past year, I would do it. If I could only go back to last Christmas Eve, I would be more understanding. I would simply tell my son that I loved him, no matter what. And I wouldn’t let anyone, not even his father, treat him badly. Or treat him as if he wasn’t normal. Because all I want is for him to... to live! To live and be happy! That’s the only thing that’s important!”

Jennifer waited, as if she’d hear a voice telling her everything would be all right. But all she heard was Justin’s labored breath. The click and pump of machines designed to keep people alive. The sighs and coughs from other patients behind drawn curtains. And an occasional hushed footfall in the distance.

There were no windows in the ICU, so it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night. She might have been sitting there for hours or for weeks. Time had no meaning. Nothing had any meaning except her beautiful son lying in front of her, broken.

Every now and then Justin would stir. He would take a gasping breath, like a diver coming up for air. His head would move and his eyelids flutter, and Jennifer would think he was about to open his eyes. But then he would settle back into a restless, hopeless sleep.

Almost. Almost.

The doctors assured her that Justin would recover. That it was only a matter of time. But when he would wake up, they couldn’t say. Another hour or another week. A month or... longer? These things were unpredictable. So much depended on how much damage his brain had taken when he’d been beaten. The doctors were monitoring the situation. It was early yet. Too early to tell.

He had a fracture of the skull, but it wasn’t too bad. That’s what Dr. Bentley had said. There’s no depression of the skull. No bleeding of the brain. He’s breathing on his own. That’s all good news. Your boy has taken a nasty hit, but it could have been worse. He shielded his head with his hands, protecting himself from the assault. Consequently, his right hand and arm had taken the brunt of the attack. His arm was broken, his wrist shattered, and his hand messed up. Those things would all need to be fixed. But they were fixable. The boy would have a long recovery and need physical therapy, but he’d get better. They had some excellent orthopedic surgeons at Allegheny General. He’d be well taken care of.

“But what about his hand, doctor?” Jennifer had asked. “He wants to be an artist. It’s very important to him. He needs his hand to draw.”

The doctor had looked away. “That’s not my specialty, Mrs. Taylor. Dr. Gottleib will be able to tell you more later. But no one can guarantee he’ll have the same kind of mobility in his hand and arm that he had before. Maybe with a lot of work, he will. But that’s in the future. Right now I’m only concerned that he wake up – and the sooner the better.”

When Justin woke up. What would he say? Would he remember what had happened to him? Dr. Bentley warned that with head injuries the patient often had amnesia about the accident. Maybe that was Nature’s gentle way of protecting him from a horrible reality. Jennifer prayed again, prayed that Justin wouldn’t remember what had happened to him. Wouldn’t remember the attack of that horrible man. Wouldn’t remember the pain he must have felt. Or the fear.

And then there was Craig. Strutting around the hospital, spoiling for a fight. He’d barely spoken ten words to Justin since his graduation from Dartmouth, except for that awful scene on Thanksgiving, but the minute Jennifer called him to tell him that Justin was in the hospital, there he was. Trying to take over. Arguing with the doctors. Playing the part of the concerned father.

Perhaps Craig really did care about his son. Jennifer knew that deep down Craig loved Justin. At least, she hoped he loved him. Craig had always been so proud of Justin. Proud of his excellent grades and accomplishments at St. James Academy, one of the most exclusive schools in Pittsburgh. Proud that Justin had never been in any trouble, never caused them a moment’s grief.

Until...

When Justin came out, that’s when everything changed. All those years of being the Perfect Son seemed to be wiped away in a moment, at least in Craig’s mind. And it didn’t help that their marriage was falling apart. That Craig’s girlfriend was pushing him to make a break with Jennifer. And now this...

She knew Brian Kinney was out of town. In San Francisco on business, Justin had said, so he’d been planning to come over for Christmas Dinner. Just the three of them – Jennifer, Justin, and Molly. Jennifer bought a rack of lamb and she’d made plum pudding, British style.

They would have been eating their dinner right about now. Or maybe they would have been finished.

Time. It didn’t have meaning anymore.

Craig had been slumped in the chair, staring into space, when they heard the commotion out by the nurse’s station. Jennifer recognized Brian’s voice and she knew that her son’s lover was trying to get to him. Was desperate to get to him. 

Craig rushed out and there was a nasty confrontation. Brian Kinney was taken away by the police and Craig was smug in his victory.

And Jennifer – she knew she was a coward for standing back and saying nothing.

The one person Justin would want to see when he awoke was Brian Kinney. The man he loved.

Jennifer knew it and hated it. Hated that this man had taken the place in Justin’s heart that rightly belonged to her. First place.

But if Brian had been a woman, had been Justin’s wife, would Jennifer have begrudged her that place? Would she have allowed Craig to turn her away? Allowed her to be dragged off to jail, protesting? Calling for her lover – calling in vain?

No. It never would have happened.

Justin was fretful. He seemed to be struggling for consciousness. But then he’d slip back. Slip away from her.

Jennifer took her son’s hand and squeezed it. “Justin? Can you hear me? Please, darling! Wake up. Speak to me!”

But the hours went by and still Justin slept.

“It might be days, Mrs. Taylor,” said the resident on duty. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? Your husband has gone home.”

Yes, thought Jennifer. He won this round from Brian Kinney. He can go home and enjoy his worthless triumph.

“No,” she said. “I want to be here when he wakes up. Whenever that is. I have to be here. I want my face to be the first thing he sees. That way he’ll know he’s safe.”

“It’s your decision,” said the doctor. “Merry Christmas.”

She took a few minutes to call Molly and make sure she was okay. She was staying at a friend’s house. The parents had promised to take care of her, but it wasn’t a very Merry Christmas for her poor daughter. Her family was broken. Her brother was broken. Then Jennifer called her sister June in Chicago. June was making plans to come to Pittsburgh tomorrow. June was always so organized. She’d bring Molly home and get the house in order. She’d tell Jennifer what was right and what was wrong. And she’d know how to deal firmly with Craig. She’d give Jen the courage to do what she had to do.

It was late now. Close to midnight. One of the night nurses, an older African-American man, came in and checked on Justin. And he checked on Jennifer, too. He said his name was Ray and that she should call him if she needed anything. Anything at all.

“Your boy is gonna be fine,” he said. “He has a beautiful mother watching over him. That’s reason enough to wake up.”

Jennifer nodded. But was it?

She felt herself dozing off, but something jolted her awake.

She looked over at Justin and he was looking back at her, his blue eyes wide. His mouth was open, but his lips and tongue were dry. He tried to whisper something, his voice low and hoarse.

“What, darling?” Jennifer asked eagerly. “What is it? What do you want? Tell me!”

“Brian!” Justin rasped. “He was calling me! Where is he? Where’s Brian? I want him!”

And then Justin closed his eyes in exhaustion and fell back to sleep.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awake.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

“He’s waking up!” Jennifer Taylor exclaimed. “He’s really waking up!”

“That’s surely good news, Mrs. Taylor,” Ray replied calmly. “Didn’t I tell you? Your boy is gonna be right as rain.”

The resident on duty had come and checked on Justin and agreed that he was slowly regaining consciousness. “The neurologist will see him first thing in the morning and send him down for another CT scan. Maybe then we can move him out of the IC Unit and into a regular room.”

“That will be wonderful, doctor!” Jennifer was so relieved she thought she might cry. “Thank you so much!”

“Now we just have to let the boy heal,” said the resident. He stifled a yawn. He’d been on duty since noon and it was now past midnight. “The nurses will call me if there’s any change.”

After the doctor left, Ray suggested that Jennifer rest for a while. “There’s an unoccupied room next to the waiting room. You could lay yourself down in there and get a few hours of shut-eye. Then you’ll be all bright-eyed in the morning. You wouldn’t want your son to be awake and you be falling asleep in the middle of talking to him, would you?”

“No.” Jennifer felt completely drained, but still she hesitated. “But what if he wakes up again? What if he needs me?”

“You’ll be right down this hall.” Ray guided her into the empty room. “If anything happens, Ray’ll come and get you.”

Jennifer slipped off her shoes and sank down onto the bed. It was so soft, so welcoming. And she was so tired. “Maybe for a few minutes...”

“You get your rest, Mrs. Taylor,” said Ray. “It’s well-deserved.”

“Thank you, Ray,” said the grateful Jennifer. “Everyone here has been so kind and supportive.”

“We do our best.” Ray spread a thin blanket over the exhausted woman. “Things’ll look brighter in the morning.”

After he was certain Jennifer Taylor was asleep, Ray looked in on Justin. His mouth was twitching and his eyelids fluttering, as if he were on the edge of wakefulness.

“You gonna be fine, just like I told your Mama,” Ray said to the slumbering form. “But it helps to have something to wake up for. Somebody to want to wake up for. Your Mama has good intentions, but sometimes a boy needs more than his Mama.”

Ray peered out at the nurse’s station. Cheryl, the charge nurse, was in the office, catching up on paperwork, while Juan and Shakira, the other two night nurses, were making coffee in the break room.

Ray walked softly across the corridor, past the bank of elevators, to the door to the stairwell, and opened it.

“Be quiet!” he warned. “I mean it!”

“I’m being quiet,” whispered Brian, stepping out of the shadows. “You’re the one clumping up and down the hall like a fucking herd of draft horses.”

“You shut your mouth until we get into the room,” Ray hissed. “If I’m gonna lose my job over this, I want it to be for the right reason. Now move your skinny white ass!”

“Yes, sir,” Brian saluted. “I’m moving my actually quite admired white ass immediately.” He followed Ray, moving briskly past the deserted nurse’s station. Ray pushed Brian into the darkened room and shut the door behind them.

Brian held his breath when he saw Justin lying there. He was so still, so pale. But he was also beautiful. And he was alive.

“His... his face.” Brian reached out and touched Justin’s bruised cheek with his fingertips.

“This boy took a beating, but he took it like a man,” Ray admitted. “He’s a little banged up, but he’ll heal. Those scrapes will fade. Those bones will mend. But other things will take longer – much, much longer.”

“And his hair.” Brian paused. The right side of his head was covered with a bandage, but the left was also shaved to the skin. “His beautiful hair.”

“Hair will grow back,” Ray pointed out. “They don’t want the wound to get infected. Don’t be afraid to touch him. Just watch his head and right arm. And don’t disturb his bandages or his IV. You should know about that. Or maybe you don’t. You was always a problem child when you were my patient.”

Brian kept gazing at Justin. The reality of seeing him lying there, injured, was overwhelming. “Tell me the truth, Ray. Is it really bad? Is Justin going to be all right?”

Ray shrugged. “It’s not good. Getting bashed in the head is never a good thing. But I’ve seen worse. I’ve seen people so broken up and near death you’d never think they could walk out of here. But they do walk out. And this boy will walk. And he’ll walk out with you.”

Brian rubbed his forehead. “If his fucking father doesn’t have me arrested again.”

“That’s the chance you have to take,” said Ray. “But you already know that.”

“Life not worth living if you don’t take risk,” Brian pronounced grandly.

Ray rolled his eyes. “Man, you are one crazy motherfucker! I’ll leave you alone for now. I got patients to check on. But I’ll be back in a little while to take you out of here, okay?”

Brian never took his eyes off Justin. “Sure. Whatever.” He was barely aware of Ray going out and closing the door behind him.

Brian took his lover’s left hand – his right arm and hand were tightly wrapped – and held it. Squeezed it. He thought he felt a slight squeeze in return, but he wasn’t certain.

“Justin,” Brian murmured. “Can you hear me? I came as fast as I could. I know I always say I never apologize, but this is an exception. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. I’m so fucking sorry! Justin? Can you forgive me? Can you?”

Justin stirred and Brian leaned closer.

“Are you listening? Or are you someplace else? Wherever you are, Justin, come back!” 

Justin moved his lips, but it was impossible to tell if the movement was conscious or involuntary. 

“Justin? It’s been one year. I haven’t forgotten. One year since you fucking saved my worthless ass. One year since you made me want to live again. Don’t leave me now. If you do, I swear I’ll come after you. You can’t get away from me that easily! I won’t let you get away!”

Brian gently kissed Justin’s cheek, then his swollen lips. Kissed them as hard as he could. And as tenderly.

This can’t be the end of it! thought Brian. It’s only the beginning! I know it is!

“Justin! Say something to me, you fucking little twat!”

“Brian.” Justin’s voice was thick and low, but the words were clear. “Stop yelling in my ear. Jesus, I can hear you! They can hear you all the way to Liberty Avenue!”

Brian felt his heart swell. “I just wanted to make sure you heard me, brat. I didn’t know how far away you were. Or if you were coming back.”

“I heard you calling me. It was dark, but I heard your voice. And now I’m here.” Justin opened his blue eyes. “Brian – I’m here.”


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me…"

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

“Brian? Tell me.” Justin’s breath was shallow and his voice ragged. “What happened to me?”

Brian was startled by the question. He held Justin’s hand tighter. “Don’t you remember?”

“No.” Justin’s eyelids were heavy, as if keeping them open was a struggle. “Don’t remember anything.”

“You were hurt,” Brian replied carefully. “That’s all that’s important right now. That, and getting better. You need to rest.”

“Tired.” Justin’s eyes slipped shut. “But I don’t want to sleep. You’ll go away.” His eyes opened again, very slowly. “Don’t go away. I’m afraid to be alone.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Brian reassured him. “Your mom is right down the hall. And all the doctors and nurses are taking good care of you. And Ray is here, too. Do you remember Ray? He was my nurse when my stomach was acting up.”

Justin shook his head slightly. “Ray? Don’t know.”

Brian stared at the bandages on Justin’s head and arm. The way his hand was wrapped. “Does anything hurt? Justin? Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Numb,” he whispered. “Feel numb.”

He’s probably on heavy-duty painkillers, thought Brian. But what about when the drugs wear off? How fucked up is his head? And what about his hand?

He fought back. That’s all Brian kept saying to himself. He’s half the size of that bastard Rikert, but he fought back! And this is what happened to him when he did. But it didn’t stop him. He fought like a fucking tiger!

But if he hadn’t fought back... would he have ended up in the dumpster like that other kid? The one Rikert killed? Because Brian had no doubt Rikert had murdered the other boy. And maybe murdered others as well. And abused who-the-fuck-knows how many more. Carl had said as much. And now Rikert was dead. Good fucking riddance!

And Justin didn’t remember what had happened to him.

“What day is it?” Justin’s blue eyes were looking directly at Brian.

Brian leaned closer. “It’s after midnight. Christmas just ended.”

“How long have I been here?” His eyes darted around, as if taking in his surroundings for the first time. “A long time?”

“No,” said Brian. “Not long. You were asleep for a few hours. And now you’re awake. And you’re going to be okay.”

“Hospital?” Justin asked.

“Allegheny General. Where you came to see me when I was sick,” said Brian. “Do you remember that? Before Thanksgiving?”

“Don’t know.” Justin winced, as if trying to remember was painful.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Brian, stroking his cheek. “You can remember later. Now you should get some sleep. I’ll come back and see you tomorrow.”

“No!” Justin squeezed Brian’s hand harder, his fingers clinging. “Don’t go!”

Brian swallowed. “It’ll be fine. Your mother will be here soon. And I’ll be back. I promise.”

“No!” Justin’s eye were full of panic. “Please!”

Brian looked around. Ray might be returning any minute to take him out. If they found him here, they’d call security and probably have him arrested again. But Brian found that he couldn’t let go of Justin’s hand.

“I won’t leave you,” Brian vowed. “They’ll have to tie me up and drag me out of here. But then they’ll drag you out with me, because I’m not letting go of your hand. Okay?”

“Okay.” The words were barely audible, but Justin gave a faint smile. “I’m not afraid. Not when you’re with me.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” said Brian, who was fucking terrified. “Nothing at all.”

Brian sat for a long time, watching Justin as he dozed fitfully. What would happen to them now? There was no question of going back to San Francisco. He’d have to call Tony Conway and tell him he wouldn’t be taking the job after all. There was no fucking way he could leave Pittsburgh. Justin would need a lot of time to recover and he wasn’t about to abandon him. He’d find some kind of job in Pittsburgh. Any job. It didn’t matter what, as long as he was here.

“Hey, Brian?” It was Ray. “You gotta be going now, man. It’s getting close to morning and my shift is almost over. This boy’s mama is going to wake up and head straight for his bedside. And she can’t find you here. So we best be going right now!”

“No,” said Brian. “I’m staying.” 

“Shit, man!” Ray exclaimed. “You can’t do that! You wanna get me in deep trouble?”

“You won’t get into trouble,” Brian insisted. “No one will know how I got in here. I’ll tell them I slipped in while no one was looking. But I can’t leave. Justin needs me to be here and this is where I’m going to be.” He gripped Justin’s hand tighter. He thought about Justin fighting back against that cop. From now on they’d fight together. That was the only way. “I promised I wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“He won’t be alone!” Ray countered. “Mrs. Taylor is right down the hall, but she’s not gonna be there long! She’ll be in this room – and what’ll she do if she finds you here?”

Brian shrugged. “She’ll deal with it. They’ll all have to deal with it. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“You really are a crazy motherfucker!” Ray huffed. “You must like Mayor Stockwell’s jail!”

“I’m not going to jail,” Brian stated. “But I predict that Mayor Stockwell might well be seeing the inside of one before too long.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ray rubbed his head in exasperation.

“Nothing,” Brian replied. “Just speculating on a happy future.”

Justin stirred. “Brian? Is it morning?”

“Almost.” Brian leaned down and kissed his lover. “This is Ray. Remember him?”

“No,” said Justin in confusion. “Is it time to go home? I want to go home. Back to the loft. I don’t like this place.”

Ray sniffed. “You won’t be going home yet, honey. Not until you’re better.”

Brian threw Ray a deadly glance. “Soon. Maybe not today, but soon.”

“My God! What’s going on here? And what are YOU doing here?”

Brian and Ray turned at the sound of the voice. 

Standing in the doorway was Jennifer Taylor.

“Well, Sunshine, here’s Mom,” Brian commented. “All we need is your old man to be one big happy family!”


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother Taylor.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Jennifer couldn’t believe her eyes when she walked into her son’s hospital room and saw Brian Kinney sitting by Justin’s bedside, holding his hand.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “How did you get in?”

“What do you think? I fucking flew in! Like a big queer bird!” Brian retorted.

“I’m calling security!” Jennifer cried. Then she turned to Ray, the night nurse. “Did you let this man in here? Are you responsible for this?”

“Excuse me? He had nothing to do with it,” Brian cut in before Ray had a chance to answer. “He was just trying to get me to leave. But I’m not leaving, Mrs. Taylor. I’m staying right here where I belong – next to my partner!”

“Mom.” Justin struggled to raise his head. “Brian is with me. I want him here!”

“Darling, you don’t know what you’re saying!” Jennifer tried to move next to her son’s bed, but Brian Kinney was blocking her way. He wasn’t giving even an inch. “Justin, you’ve been in a bad accident. You’re not thinking clearly! Let me take care of this!”

“He wasn’t in an accident,” Brian stated flatly. “And there’s nothing wrong with the way Justin is thinking. Maybe he doesn’t remember everything that happened to him, but he remembers what’s important. He remembers me!”

“Please see reason!” Jennifer countered. “You’re only upsetting my son!”

“He isn’t upset,” Brian blasted. “At least he wasn’t until you marched in and started giving orders!”

“Stop!” Justin closed his eyes, trying to focus his foggy brain. “My head hurts!”

“Justin,” Brian bent over his lover. “I’m fucking sorry, but I have to do this. We have to clear this up now.”

The resident on duty came into the room, followed by two more nurses. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Doctor, this man has no right to be here! He’s keeping me from my son!” Jennifer insisted. “I’m his mother!”

“And I’m Justin’s partner,” Brian returned. “And I can prove it!” 

“With what?” Jennifer sniffed.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll need to see something in writing,” said the resident.

Brian reached for the black leather jacket he’d hung over the back of the chair next to Justin’s bed. He took a thick envelope from the inside pocket and unfolded some documents. “These are the papers for Justin’s health insurance. I’ve been paying it since last June when he graduated from college and his father no longer covered him. His insurance card is in his wallet, if anyone had bothered to look. This is our durable power of attorney, which gives me the right to make medical decisions for my partner. Here are copies of our wills, designating that Justin is my legal heir, and that I’m his. These are our joint bank statements for the last five months. And these are our living wills. That’s all I have because that’s all the fucking Commonwealth of Pennsylvania will allow us at this point in its benighted history. If you doubt anything here I can give you the name of my lawyers and you can contact them. Does that satisfy you, doctor? What else does this hospital need to prove that I belong right here, by Justin’s side?” Brian turned to Jennifer. “And what else do you need to prove it to you, Mrs. Taylor? What will it take for you to believe that I fucking love your son and want to be with him?”

Jennifer was taken aback. Brian held out the documents for her to see, but she didn’t take them. “I believe you,” she said wearily. “But why didn’t you show these to the authorities last night?”

Brian took a deep breath. This woman was fucking clueless! “I’d just walked off an airplane. I left San Francisco without my luggage, without even my coat! If you had come out of this room when your husband – or should I say your soon-to-be-ex-husband? – was screaming in my face you’d have seen that I was still wearing a goddamn tux from the Christmas party I’d been overseeing for my soon-to-be-ex-job! But who was going to listen to me at that point? Your husband? The doctors? The fucking Pittsburgh PD? These papers were in the safe in my loft. In my rush to see Justin, it never occurred to me that the people who are supposedly the most concerned about his welfare and happiness would do everything in their power to keep me away from him. That’s how fucking naïve I was!”

“What do you want done, Mrs. Taylor?” asked the resident. “Do you want me to call security and have this man removed?”

“No!” Justin cried. He reached out his unbandaged left hand. “Brian! Don’t leave me!”

Brian was at his side in a moment. “Don’t worry, brat. I’m not going anywhere.” Then he looked at the doctor, challenge in his eyes. “Justin isn’t a minor. He’s 23 years old. And he’s also no longer unconscious. I would think his wishes would count more than anyone else’s – even his mother’s.”

The resident nodded. “He’s correct, Mrs. Taylor. If these documents are valid, then this man...”

“Brian A. Kinney,” Brian pronounced. “You want me to spell it for you?”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Kinney,” said the resident. “As I said, if these papers are valid, then he has a right to be here. If you want to make a protest, Mrs. Taylor, you’ll have to lodge a formal complaint with the hospital legal department.”

“No, doctor,” said Jennifer, knowing she was defeated. “This is what my son wants. He’s a... a grown man and I’m not going to fight his wishes.”

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. Now I need to examine the patient,” said the resident. “If you two will step into the hall, I can proceed.”

“I won’t be far,” Brian said to Justin. “I’ll be right outside. Okay?”

“Okay,” Justin whispered. “Then can we go home? Please?”

Brian swallowed a huge lump in his throat. “Soon. When the doc says it’s all right.”

Brian walked out of the room, Jennifer Taylor at his heels.

“Brian?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“What?” He was in no mood to fight another round with Justin’s mom.

“I... I want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.” Jennifer sank down on an orange plastic chair pushed against the wall. “But... but seeing Justin so injured... I’ve been beside myself with fear! At first, I didn’t know if he would live. Then I was afraid he’d be so damaged that he’d never be the same. And he’s still so... so hurt! I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” She paused, licking her dry lips. “I know he loves you. He loves you more than anything. I know that and I’m trying to accept it. But it’s hard! And, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure how much you really loved him. I’ve heard so many stories about you. About... the way you are with... with men.”

“Brian Fucking Kinney,” he said. “The Big Bad Gay Wolf?”

“Something like that,” Jennifer admitted. “This was from people who knew you well, so I had to believe them!”

“I see you’ve been talking to Debbie. She loves to tell horror stories about me.” Brian shook his head. Deb was supposed to be on his side. And on Justin’s side, too. But she couldn’t stop herself from filling the woman full of bullshit. Well, some of it was bullshit. “And maybe a lot of those stories are even true. But that’s not all there is to me, Mrs. Taylor.”

“I know,” Jennifer replied. “I can see that you love my son. You’ve done so much for him. But he never told me about... about all those papers. Or about the insurance. When the hospital asked me about insurance I didn’t know what to tell them! I knew he wasn’t covered by Craig’s policy anymore, so I thought we’d just have to pay whatever it would cost. My father said he’d help me if Craig started being an asshole about it, but it’s been overwhelming! Justin is going to be in the hospital for a while, and after that he’s going to need physical therapy and probably psychological counseling. The doctors already warned me about that. They said it might take months, or even longer, before he was back to the way he used to be... if he ever is!” Jennifer broke down in sobs. “My poor baby! My poor Justin!”

Brian didn’t know what to do. Crying females were not something he had a lot of experience with. So he reached down and took Justin’s mother’s hand. “He’ll get better. He has so many people who care about him, who are... are praying for him. That’s Justin – everyone loves the little twat! But especially me. I love him. You have to believe that.”

“I do,” she said. Then she pulled her hand out of Brian’s grasp and took a big handful of tissues from her bag, wiping her eyes. “I know you do. But it’s still hard! Justin is still my little boy! And nothing can change that, even when I know he’s a grown man!”

“He is a man,” said Brian. “A gay man. And he’s my lover. Which means that for Justin’s sake the two of us have to learn to get along, as difficult as that may be. And you have to trust me, Mrs. Taylor. Trust me to make the right decisions for both me and Justin.”

“I’ll try.” Jennifer sniffled and blew her nose. Then she stood up and smoothed her rumpled sweater. “Look at me! I’m a mess! Now that Justin is awake, I need to go home and get cleaned up. My sister is coming into town today. You remember June? She was here at Thanksgiving. She’s always so... so helpful.”

“I remember her,” said Brian. “She seems like a good person. And she loves Justin.”

“She adores Justin.” Jennifer straightened her shoulders. “So – I’ll leave things here to you. I think it would be better if Craig stays away. He’ll just upset Justin. Tell the staff and they’ll keep him out. And I’ll call him and tell him, too. He’s not going to be happy, but it’s not about him, is it?”

“No,” Brian agreed. “It’s not about Craig. It’s not about anyone but Justin. He’s all that’s important right now.”

“Yes,” said Jennifer. “Justin getting better. That’s what I have to think about.” She paused and looked directly at Brian Kinney. “What WE have to think about, Brian.”

“Yes, Mrs. Taylor,” said Brian. Then he corrected himself. “Jennifer.”


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

When Brian finally dragged his exhausted ass back to the loft it was almost 10:00 on Monday night. In the last 48 hours he’d presided over a Christmas party in San Francisco, flown across the country on a private jet, almost had a fistfight with his lover’s father, been arrested and then sprung by Carl Horvath, snuck in to see Justin wake up, had another confrontation, this time with Justin’s mother, and spent a lot of time sitting by Justin’s bedside, watching over him and holding his hand. 

He’d taken a few breaks, mainly to grab a cup of coffee in the cafeteria or to stand outside for ten minutes and smoke a cigarette, but otherwise his focus had been on Justin. 

Finally, Ray tapped him on the shoulder and suggested that it was time to go home.

“No,” Brian declared. “I promised Justin I wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“He’s sleeping,” said Ray. “Not unconscious, not in any trouble, but sleeping nice and peaceful. Now you need to go home and do the same.”

“But...” Brian began to protest.

“No buts!” Ray exclaimed. “I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told this boy’s mama. If you wear yourself out you aren’t doing him a lick of good. You make yourself sick and you won’t be able to sit with him during the day when he’s awake and when the doctors make their rounds. That’s when you need to be here. That’s when you gotta to be alert so you can ask them the questions that need to be asked, especially if you expect him to go home with you. Especially if you expect to be taking care of this boy. Because he’s gonna need a lot of care when he goes home. And it looks like you’re gonna be the one to give him that care.”

“Who the fuck else?” Brian retorted. “He’s my partner and my responsibility!”

“I know that. But you ever cared for somebody who got bashed in the head before?” Ray posed. “Or who’s got his arm and hand all mashed up so’s he won’t be able to use it for a long time? That takes know-how. And it takes somebody who’s taking care of himself.”

Brian gazed at Justin’s sleeping form. “What if he wakes up and I’m not here?”

“He won’t,” Ray stated. “Not after that pill I gave him. He’ll sleep like a baby all night long.”

“Well,” Brian hesitated. “Maybe I’ll go home for a few hours.”

And now he was home.

Between his cell and the answering machine in the loft, there were too many messages for Brian to deal with, so he didn’t even try. He poured himself a stiff belt of Jack Daniels and rummaged in the fridge to see if there was anything remotely edible. Besides bottled water, juice, and poppers, he found two slices of pizza that were curling up on the edges, some meatloaf from the diner, and three cartons of leftover Thai food. He dumped all of it into the trash and then topped up his glass of Jack.

He hadn’t been that hungry after all.

So, he thought, as he stared at the empty loft, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

Sitting by Justin’s bed for so many hours had scared the shit out of Brian. It was like the first time he held Gus the night he was born – he hadn’t expected to feel so deeply or care so much, and when he did, it shocked him. Made him rethink all of his bullshit. And Brian Kinney didn’t like having to rethink. Didn’t like having to admit to himself that much of the front he’d built up so carefully for so long was just that, a fucking facade that was crumbling away to dust, with nothing to replace it but the naked truth. That made Brian feel raw, like an open wound.

But it made him feel something. That was the other thing. He’d spent so many years numb. Numb to love and numb to kindness. And whenever that numbness started to recede, he cajoled it back with booze and drugs. Then, starved for sensation, he ramped it up with sex and more drugs. It was an endless loop that was bound to come crashing down eventually. And this was that eventually.

There was no turning back now. The bullshit no longer worked. The reality of Justin in that fucking hospital bed with his head bashed in was something he couldn’t deny. And the emotions he felt looking at him in that bed could no longer be denied, either.

Brian sat on the white sofa, took out his cell, and called Tony Conway in San Francisco.

“Brian! What the hell happened? I left you a message, but you never got back to me. How’s your partner?” Tony’s voice sounded like it was coming from another universe.

“He’s going to be okay,” said Brian. “But he was badly hurt. It’s going to be long recovery.”

“That’s awful! Do they know who did it?”

“They got the guy.” Brian was too tired to go into detail. “But I’m calling to tell you I won’t be coming back to San Francisco. I can’t. Justin needs me here and I need to be here. To pretend I can come back to work any time soon would be a lie. You need to find someone who can devote his full attention to the job – and right now that’s not me.”

“I wish you’d reconsider,” Tony replied. “Radev says this launch for The Maxim was the best he’s ever had and he wants to plan a whole series of events at all his resorts. And then there’s the cruise thing he’s thinking about. You’re a big part of our strategy, Brian! We need you!”

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” Brian said. “Maybe this whole thing wasn’t meant to be. I’m not sure I’m really a P.R. guy. If I can’t find another job in advertising in Pittsburgh, I may have to rethink everything. But I know I can’t come back to San Francisco. I know what my priorities are and Justin is Number One.”

“What about Gardner Vance?” Tony answered. “Maybe you can work something out with him, especially under the circumstances.”

“I don’t think so.” Brian grimaced thinking about dancing with that devil again. “That train left the station a while ago. And I refuse to go back and work for him as a kind of pity-fuck.”

“You’re a talented guy,” said Tony. “You’ll find something. Good luck, Brian.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Brian put down the cell and stretched his tired limbs.

The loft was so still it was uncanny. He wanted to stand up and yell, stamp his feet on the hardwood floor, throw a glass across the room and break it, anything to break the chilly silence.

He’d spent so many years living alone in this arid space, but all he could remember about those years now were the long nights he stared into space after he’d tossed that evening’s trick out the door. Then Justin invaded the place. Left his dirty underwear on the floor, his empty milk glasses on the Mies van der Rohe coffee table, his pencils and sketchpads everywhere. Laughed his braying laugh way too early in the morning. Chattered on about nothing after they’d fucked when he should have been in an exhausted sleep. Poked Brian in the ribs with his bony elbows when he turned over. Put his arms around Brian in the middle of the night and told him that he loved him for no fucking reason at all.

Brian needed to call the fucking lawyers and make sure Vance gave him every dime of his payoff. And gave it to him pronto! That was their nest-egg. That money would be their future.

If he sold the Vette, they could live on that cash for awhile. He owned the loft free and clear and the maintenance fee was minimal. If worse came to worse, he could sell that, too. But that would be a last resort. There were other things he had of value. The painting Justin referred to as the Ugly Naked Guy could go and never be missed. Even used, he might be able to get a few bucks for the television and the furniture. But the thought of selling the fucking chairs right out from under their asses was depressing. But not as depressing as not eating. And not as depressing as not keeping up their health insurance. After all, what did he really need to live? A couple of futons. Some cheap booze. A bag of salad and a jar of peanut butter now and then. He’d lived with a lot less in his life and survived.

Survival. That was what was important now. Fucking surviving. And Justin getting back to normal. Whenever that might be.

“Maybe I could take Justin’s shift at the Watermark?” Brian mused. “I bet I could make some decent tips. My ass may not be as prime as Justin’s, but it’s still pretty damn good!”

What he really needed to do was to get back into advertising. That’s where he belonged. Even if he had to crawl and claw his way back. Even if he had to go into business for himself.

Without any clients. Without any money. Without any offices. Without any employees.

Well, there’s me! thought Brian. That’s one. That’s a start. Everything has to start somewhere.

And tomorrow Justin has to start his long road back. And I’ll be travelling with him.

We’re both in this for the long haul.

Brian turned off the lights on Justin’s little Christmas tree and went to bed. But he didn’t sleep. He thought. And smoked. And planned. And wrapped his arms around a pillow that took the place of someone who wasn’t there. But he would be. 

Soon.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Justin was happy to be out of the ICU. His new room had a window, so he knew whether it was day or night. And it had a television, so he didn’t feel so isolated from the world. He also had a roommate, but that wasn’t too bad – the guy was behind a curtain and spent much of the day being wheeled in and out of the room for tests, so Justin didn’t have a lot of interaction with him.

But there was one thing Justin didn’t like about being out of the ICU.

“Why do you have to go?” Justin clung to Brian’s hand. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

“Visiting hours are over, twerp,” Brian replied. Unlike in Intensive Care, visitors to regular patients had to leave at 8:00. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Brian gave him a quick kiss and then was gone.

That’s when the anxiety started to creep over him.

He watched a little television, then clicked it off. He listened to some music on his iPod. But he couldn’t shake off that feeling of dread. The feeling that something was lurking in the shadows, waiting for him. Justin wasn’t sure what the thing was or what it was going to do, but the feeling was so powerful he couldn’t seem to shake it.

He’d been attacked. Brian had explained it to him. His mother had explained it to him. The doctor had explained it to him. Even Carl had explained it to him.

But it didn’t seem real. How could it be true when he didn’t remember it? Didn’t remember anything?

That cop. That Sgt. Rikert. He’d been the one. Justin squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing. The last thing he sort of remembered was being in the diner. But he couldn’t remember why he’d gone there or who he’d spoken to. There was only a vague image of Deb in front of him. Of wrapping his scarf around his neck. And then... nothing.

The night nurse came in to take Justin’s temperature and give him a pain pill. Justin flinched when the nurse touched him.

“Are you okay? Did that hurt, honey?” asked the nurse, kindly. She wore glasses and had dark silvery hair.

“No.” Justin shrank away. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine. But don’t touch me.”

“I have to take your temperature, honey.” She placed the thermometer into his ear. “Just a moment. There.” She checked it. “You’re doing real good. Here’s your pill.” She handed Justin the pill and a cup of water.

“Thanks.” Justin was glad to take the pill. He ached all over, but especially his right arm and hand. And his head. His head throbbed, especially at night.

“You might be going home soon,” commented the nurse. “You looking forward to that?”

“I hate it here,” said Justin. “No offense.”

“No one likes being in the hospital.” She took the cup from Justin and set it on the table. “It’ll be nice to have your mom pampering you. And I heard your sister and your aunt were here to see you today, too.”

“I’m not going to my mother’s place,” Justin sniffed. “I’m going home with my partner. That’s MY home.”

The nurse tilted her head. All the nurses were talking about the tall, dark-haired man who was there every day, sitting by the boy’s side. She’d had gay patients before – she remembered an older couple in particular, one of the men was dying of cancer and other was so devoted to him that it was sad when the man died – but never one so young. She wasn’t certain it was a good thing, this boy who looked so innocent and that older man who seemed so worldly. It was against the Bible, she knew that much. But it wasn’t for her to judge.

“You live together?” She was surprised. He was so young!

“Since...” Justin winced as he tried to remember. “Last June. When I graduated. Brian bought me a Jeep for my graduation present.” Justin leaned back against the pillow. “My dad hates Brian. And he hates me, too. He hates faggots. They told me he came here, trying to cause trouble. Trying to get Brian kicked out.”

The nurse had heard about that. Another thing everyone was gossiping about. The boy’s father had burst onto the floor and had a confrontation with his wife, who was apparently divorcing him. And then the tall, handsome man had argued with him. Eventually, the father left, but it had been an unpleasant scene. “Maybe your daddy is concerned about you. He must be upset about you being hurt.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about me,” Justin stated bitterly. “He only wants to keep Brian away because I love him and he loves me. But it didn’t work. When I go home, I’m going with my boyfriend. There’s nothing my dad can do about it.”

Justin turned his head away. These fucking people would never understand! He wanted to get out of here now! He wanted to go home!

The nurse left the room and Justin tried to sleep. But something was in the shadows. Something he couldn’t put a name to. But he knew it was there.

 

***

 

Justin loved his mother and he loved Aunt June, but he wished they wouldn’t keep touching him.

“I’m all right, Mom,” Justin insisted. Jennifer kept trying to adjust his pillows. “I can do it. I’m not a baby.”

“I only want to help,” said Jennifer, glancing at her sister.

“Can we get you anything?” June asked. “Any magazines? Do you want me to turn the TV on?” 

“No,” said Justin peevishly. “Nothing!” The two women kept grabbing at him. They were driving him fucking nuts! “Where’s Brian? He’s usually here first thing in the morning!”

“I don’t know, darling,” said Jennifer, trying not to show her worry. It wasn’t like Brian to be late. She prayed that Craig hadn’t waylaid him outside the hospital and had another altercation with him. They’d both end up in jail if they kept it up. “But I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Jennifer reach out and gently stroked her son’s forehead.

“Don’t!” Justin recoiled violently. “Don’t touch me like that!”

Jennifer shrank away. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“No!” Justin shouted. “I can’t stand for anyone to do that! Stop grabbing at me!”

June pulled Jennifer away. “She only touched you, Justin. She didn’t grab you.”

“I don’t care,” Justin whispered. “I can’t stand people grabbing me like that! I wish everyone would keep their hands to themselves.” Justin felt hot tears welling up, but he blinked them back. “Except Brian.” His voice rose. “Where is he? I need Brian!”

“Hey, Sunshine – I’m right here.”

And Brian was in the room. Was putting his arms around him. Was kissing him. Now he was safe. Now everything would be okay.

But Justin found he couldn’t stop crying. He tried, but he couldn’t. That was happening all the time. He couldn’t control his emotions. His anger. His fear. His relief. Only when Brian was holding him did he feel safe. Feel like there was hope. Feel like someday he’d be himself again.

Justin knew there was something very wrong with him, but he didn’t want to think about it.

“It’s okay,” Brian murmured into his ear. “I was just talking to the doc. He says you can go home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Justin wiped his eyes with his left hand. “Really?”

“Are you sure?” Jennifer blurted. That was too soon! Justin hadn’t even been in the hospital a full week! “I mean, does the doctor really think he’s ready?” In Jennifer’s mind, Justin was hardly in any condition to leave the hospital. His arm was in a heavy cast, his head was still bandaged, and his body was bruised and battered. He’d need a lot of physical therapy, as well as psychological counseling. His body needed much more time to heal, but it was his mental state that concerned her even more. 

June touched Jennifer’s arm in reassurance.

“I’m sure,” said Brian, his eyes on his partner. He ran his long fingers over Justin’s shaved head. Without his hair, Justin looked fragile, the fuzz like a baby chick’s. “No need to sit around this joint all day and stew. We have things to do at home. Saturday is New Year’s Eve. We’re going to have a big party – just the two of us.”

“That would be great!” said Justin. Home. He closed his eyes in relief. Finally. He’d be safe there. Everything would be back to normal.

The shadows wouldn’t follow him to the loft. They couldn’t find him there. Brian wouldn’t let them find him.

“Are we going to be happy?” Justin asked, his blue eyes searching Brian’s face. “Are we?”

“Happy,” Brian asserted. Whatever it took, he’d make certain. “I fucking promise.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe at home.
> 
> The Finale of "Midnight Clear" and the end of "The Angel Stream."
> 
> Thanks to all who read and commented! I hope to have another story up soon.

Pittsburgh, December 2005

 

Brian warned everyone to step back and give them some space when he brought Justin home from the hospital. And everyone bowed to his wishes.

With one exception.

“I’ve got lasagna,” stated Debbie, standing at the door of the loft and trying to get around Brian. She’d managed to wait one day, but that was her limit. “And some Italian bread. And a big bag of salad, too.”

“And yesterday you brought over chicken parmesan,” said Brian, an immovable object. “And the day before that some horrible tuna casserole that stunk up the place so badly I had to put it out in the alley. Even the stray cats wouldn’t touch it.”

“You love my tuna casserole!” Debbie insisted. She craned her neck, trying to catch sight of Justin.

“I don’t think so.” Brian began to shut the door.

“Hey! Wait a minute!” Debbie huffed. “Aren’t you even going to let me see Sunshine?”

“No,” said Brian. Sometimes you had to be a hard ass. This was one of those times. “Maybe next week. But not now. Not yet.”

Debbie pushed the food into Brian’s arms. “You’re an asshole, Brian! You know that?”

“So you’ve said,” Brian agreed. “Many, many times.”

Debbie turned and walked to the elevator. “I’m only trying to help.”

Brian counted to ten. Then he counted to ten again. “I’ll have him call you. Soon.”

But Debbie wasn’t about to give up yet. “What about tomorrow? You two could come over. We’re having a New Year’s Day party! Carl wants to watch all the football games on the big TV.”

Wow, thought Brian, all the football games. On the big TV. “Maybe next week, Deb. And thanks for the lasagna. I appreciate it.”

Debbie left, grumbling, but she left. And Brian locked the door behind her.

“I take it she brought more food?” When he heard the heavy door clang shut, Justin came down from the bedroom.

“She always brings more food.” Brian set the pan of lasagna on the counter. “That’s what Debbie does. She brings food.”

“It smells good.” Justin pulled the foil off the pan with his left hand. It was awkward not being able to use his right. “That hospital food was horrible.”

“They do that on purpose to give you a reason to get better.” He took out two plates. “Dig in. It’s New Year’s Eve. Time to celebrate.”

Brian ran his hand over Justin’s head, careful to avoid the bandage that still protected his wound. The stubbly hair felt like suede peppered with bristles. It was hot. Or it would have been hot if Brian could stop thinking about what it meant.

Justin nestled back against Brian as he dished out the lasagna. It felt good to be home. Good, but strange. It felt like he’d been away from the loft for a long time, instead of only a week. That was the weird thing. Time was all screwed up. Sometimes he couldn’t remember what day it was or how long he’d been in the hospital, then other times he could remember things just fine. Or maybe he wasn’t remembering right. Like that night... when he’d been attacked...

Justin put down the plate and pressed his left palm against his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Brian whispered. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“When it gets dark... I... I don’t know what to do.” Justin turned around and held tightly to Brian. He’d wanted the lights on last night. He’d felt like a fucking baby asking for it, but he couldn’t sleep if it was too dark. If the shadows were too close to the bed.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” Brian breathed. “Not one fucking thing. It’s just us here. No one else. No one can get in. We’re safe.”

“I know.” Justin hated himself for being so afraid, so vulnerable. “It’s nothing.” He fumbled with the plate. “Goddamn fucking cast!”

“I’ve got it. Let’s sit down.” Brian carried the plates over to the living room and sat on the sofa, pulling Justin down beside him. “I’d open some champagne, but I forgot to go to the liquor store.”

Justin took a bite of lasagna and grinned. “That’s not the Brian Kinney I know and love. He’d never be without the correct booze for the occasion.”

Brian got up and went to the fridge. Justin couldn’t have any alcohol because of the drugs he was taking, but there were alternatives. “How about we toast with some lovely bottled water, direct from the sparkling springs outside of Pittsburgh?”

“Sounds great.” Justin gazed at the little Christmas tree, its cheap strand of lights twinkling. “I can’t believe you didn’t toss my tree out the window. I was going to put it away before you got home from San Francisco. I know how much you hate that kind of shit.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad.” Brian sank down on the sofa and handed Justin a bottle. “Cheers!” He took a long sip of his water. “A piquant bouquet, with a saucy hint of the Susquehanna in the undertone.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Justin laughed.

“That means it tastes like I bought it from the Big Q – which I did. But don’t tell anyone what I’m reduced to,” Brian replied.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Justin leaned against his lover. “Brian? What about your new job? What about San Francisco?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s not the right time for San Francisco. Or the right job. Something else will come along, eventually. Don’t sweat it.”

“But...”

Brian stopped Justin’s words with a kiss. “I said not to sweat it. Now, I have a question for you.” He reached over and picked up a small package that had been sitting under the little Christmas tree. “What’s this?”

Justin’s heart was pounding. “You said you didn’t do Christmas presents, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s not Christmas anymore. I guess I could open a non-Christmas present,” Brian reasoned.

“You could,” Justin agreed. “You could open it now. Before midnight. Before it’s a new year.”

Brian carefully peeled the green paper off the small, square box. It was plain white cardboard, with no hint of its origin. “Let me guess – a gift card for Hoffman’s? Or Office Max?”

Justin shook his head. “Nope. No gift cards.”

Brian eased off the top of the box. It was something shiny. Gold and silver. A bracelet. It looked like... “The one I bought you! In San Francisco! Where the fuck did you get this?” And how did you pay for it? Brian added silently.

“Kathy, one of the girls in my life drawing class, has a friend who makes jewelry. I showed him my bracelet.” Justin touched the gold and silver links on his left wrist. He had to wear it on the other side since the cast covered his right wrist and his hand was also heavily wrapped. “It’s not gold, it’s copper, but the silver is real. I thought he did an amazing job copying it. I wanted to get you the exact same bracelet, so I called the jewelry store in San Francisco. But when they told me how much it cost, I knew I couldn’t buy it and also get presents for my mom and Molly. So Kathy suggested her friend. He sketched my bracelet and made it from scratch. What do you think?”

Brian turned the bracelet over in his hand. “I think it’s fucking incredible.”

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” Justin offered. “I know you’re not big on jewelry. But you said you used to wear a bracelet. And I thought it would be something special.”

“Fucking incredible,” Brian repeated.

“I know,” said Justin. “It is pretty cool.”

“No. I meant you.” Brian held out his hand. “Do you think you can put it on me?”

“I think so.” It took Justin a few tries to get the catch to hold, but he managed it with one hand. It was a perfect fit, clinging to Brian’s right wrist like it had always been there. “It looks great.”

Brian nodded. “Great.”

They kissed, gently at first, but then with greater intensity. The day before, when Brian brought Justin home, they’d been too tired and nervous to fuck. Justin had gotten under the duvet and fallen into an exhausted sleep, relieved to be in his own bed at last. But now it was a relief of a different kind for both of them. They were together. Everything would be all right as long as that was true.

Brian led Justin up to the bedroom and undressed him slowly, kissing each section of pale skin as it was revealed. There were bruises still peppering his torso, and Brian kissed them lightly. He even kissed the cast that trapped his lover’s arm. 

Brian quickly took off his own clothes and then eased Justin down on the bed, pulling off his sweatpants and briefs. He kissed his thick cock, stroking it with one hand while he cradled his balls in the other.

“Okay?” Brian asked. “Is it okay?”

“Yes,” Justin whispered. “Please.”

Brian sucked Justin’s cock, but it was more than that. Brian had been sucking cock since he was fourteen years old, but this wasn’t only sex. This was something else. He’d had sex with thousands of men over the years, but he only thought he’d felt love a few times. Thought it, but been unsure. Now he was no longer unsure. He knew what he felt. Knew it because he’d almost lost it. 

Justin gasped as he shot into Brian’s mouth. He shuddered because it seemed so strong, so primeval. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. Except Brian. He was the only one who knew how to banish the shadows. The only one who made Justin feel alive again, when he’d been so close to death.

Brian moved up next to Justin and held him. He wasn’t going to lose this. He’d turned his back on so many things in his life. Family. Faith. Friends. The past. Sentiment. And love. Love was bullshit. Love was for the weak. For straights who packed it full of lies. It wasn’t for him.

Except that was what he felt. Love. He couldn’t deny it.

“Justin, you know how I feel about you. It’s hard, but...”

“You don’t have to say it, Brian. I already know.”

“No,” Brian insisted. “I need to say it. Because saying it makes it real. If anything had... had happened to you and I’d never said it, then I don’t know what the fuck I would have done. My whole life would have been a farce. I always claim I’m honest. That I always tell the truth. Well, this is the truth. I love you. I fucking do.”

Justin clung to Brian. Let the shadows come! They’d face them together! “And I love you so much! Sometimes I think I can’t stand it.”

“You’ll have to try, because I’m here for the duration.” Brian glanced at the clock glowing by the bed. “It’s midnight. A new day and a new year. Will you let me kiss you? This year and next year and for as long as you can stand to be with me?”

“I will,” said Justin. One thing was clear – he felt as if he were wrapped in an angel’s powerful and protective wings. A tall, beautiful, naked angel. Safe, finally. “Yes, I will. Always.”

 

*FIN*


End file.
